


Just Out Of Reach

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Assisted Suicide, Body Horror, EU, Expanded Universe, Gen, Horror, Jedi, Medical Torture, Murder-suicide discussed, Nightsisters, Pain, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Sith, Suicide Attempt, Yuuzhan Vong - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-08-15 08:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 73,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8049091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Instead of moving slowly into the galaxy, the Yuuzhan Vong barged in... a few decades early. This story is laced with horror. Long-term torture. Mind manipulation. Even stuff edging on medical. If you dislike dread, if you dislike graphic depictions of any of the things I just mentioned, “move along, move along.” Ah, yes. One more warning. Suicide, both doctor-assisted and not, as well as euthanasia are discussed rather openly. It's not a pretty story, and there will be no sex. Like I said, “move along.”





	1. Discoveries

**Author's Note:**

> I am only six novels into the New Jedi Order series, and I only have the foggiest notions of what everything actually means. Don't expect my renditions to have anything to do with what “actually” took place.

Anakin Skywalker crept into the palace, unignited lightsaber hilt in his hand.

This was an enemy he couldn't sense.

He had to rely on his ears.

He _could_ sense Ahsoka at the other end of the open com, ready to call for backup if it was required.

Death clogged his physical senses, but it was even worse in the Force.

This whole planet was dead.

According to GAR intel, the Vong had moved on. Abandoned the planet after destroying all life down to the microbes.

Anakin wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for Obi-Wan.

His heart tightened at the thought.

This batch of Vong had been in the vicinity of Obi-Wan when he went missing. Anakin and his former Padawan had been dogging their steps for months now.

Two months ago they'd lost them.

And then they heard this planet had gone dark.

By the time they'd realized what was happening, it was far too late for the inhabitants.

Maybe not too late to pick up clues to where the enemy had gone next.

Clues about Obi-Wan's fate.

_Be alive, Master. You have to be alive._

He'd been scared karkless for almost a year now. He couldn't count the times he'd been told he needed to prepare for the worst. After all this time, Obi-Wan couldn't still be alive, and it was probably a mercy.

Once the Yuuzhan Vong had taken Obi-Wan, Anakin hadn't been able to sense him in the Force at _all._ Every time reached out to the Force, he felt the loss. What was missing. It tormented Anakin's dying hope.

Maybe his Master  _was_ dead.

Maybe he'd died that moment he vanished from the Force so long ago.

Maybe all this time he'd been looking for a corpse that had been fed to a sun, or deep space, or some filthy creature that pushed the Yuuzhan Vong war machine ever forward.

The Vong were fascinated by Jedi. Planets were turning Force sensitives over to them to try to barter for survival and peace.

The Order's numbers had been cut severely by the Clone War. And then had come Order 66.

That had almost obliterated them.

A mere matter of hours after Palpatine's betrayal of the Jedi, the Yuuzhan Vong stormed into the galaxy, and Palpatine's crusade against the Jedi had to be put on pause.

In fact...

He'd been forced to bargain with them for help.

Assistance against the Yuuzhan Vong in exchange for amnesty in his new Empire. And an oath sealed by Nightsister magic that Mandalore and its Duchess were to be left alone.

With Yoda, Mace Windu, and the Council dead...

The decision had been left up to Anakin and Obi-Wan.

Anakin had been ready to throw everything away in order to destroy the man who had lied to him, betrayed him for so long, but Obi-Wan had talked sense into him. That was two years ago.

Neither Sith nor Jedi could keep this galaxy out of Yuuzhan Vong hands alone.

Even with the collaboration, it wasn't going well.

Palpatine, Maul, Thrawn, Tarkin, Cad Bane, Anakin, and Obi-Wan. The greatest strategic minds of their time.

Even with Thrawn's prior knowledge and preparation, the war was turning against them.

Planets that had just barely given up fighting one another returned to their schisms, threatening to re-start the Clone War. Refusing to work together. Many were destroying their droids and hunting down Jedi in an effort to win Yuuzhan Vong favor.

And then a year into the nightmare they'd lost Obi-Wan.

Anakin had been surprised by the leadership's response. A few made sense.

Palpatine seemed indifferent. Bane, annoyed. Tarkin, superior.

As for the others?

Thrawn seemed genuinely sorry that they had lost his mind and insight.

And Maul was furious.

No one had a right to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi but himself.

In the beginning, Anakin refused to believe his former Master dead, even though he couldn't sense him. Anywhere. He'd left all of the strategy in other hands, and had simply taken off.

Ahsoka had followed him, of course.

Through long months of hunting, his confidence had sickened. It was as demanding and ornery as ever, but Anakin knew it might die.

He was afraid he might one day give up the search. Might reach an end of himself.

And he was even more afraid of what giving up on Obi-Wan might make him.

So now he lurked in shadows, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had in his life.

Except for maybe when he'd returned to Coruscant to rescue the kidnapped Chancellor, only to discover his pregnant wife had died in the assault.

Obi-Wan had carried him through that mind-shattering hell.

He'd lost Padmé and his children.

He couldn't lose Obi-Wan too.

He just couldn't.

He reached the temple deep in the heart of the palace.

He stepped through the huge, open doors and into a chamber filled with nothing but a single altar. High on the left was an observation balcony, sheltered by transparasteel.

He had no idea what this planet's religion had been, nor did he care.

Red light from the planet's sun, filtered in from somewhere above, lit only one part of the room with a single shaft of light.

The altar.

On it lay a shape.

Everything else sat shrouded in deep shadow.

Anakin approached, keeping to the sheltering darkness.

This could easily be a trap.

It's one of the reasons he'd left Ahsoka on the outside.

The other being, of course, to warn him should the Yuuzhan Vong attack.

Not being able to sense them, and having no one else...

It was wearing on him. Terribly. He'd always been able to rely on the Force to warn him of intent, of danger, of _proximity._ He didn't know why or how the Vong were exempt.

He just wished they  _weren't._

Finally, he had to leave the shadows. Had to approach in order to see just what it was that had been offered up. A coral sculpture? Did that even make sense?

A few steps closer, the shapes began to sicken him. He recognized them now.

A naked body on its back. Legs twisted up so the feet rested on either side of the hips. Arms had been folded beneath its back, wrists caressing the opposing elbows. Head turned away from the door, away from Anakin, at a forty-five degree angle.

Strange growths bound it in position, and he could see they didn't just _surround_ the wrists and ankles.

They _penetrated_.

In fact...

The body looked fused to the altar.

The bones of the wrist and elbow were visible and joined together by the coral growing through them. The cruelest shackle ever devised.

Had the man been alive, Anakin doubted he could have moved a centimeter. The parasites were too secure. Too invasive.

Too specific.

Even his fingers were fixed in place.

As were the toes.

Such utter _control_ over the victim's body.

It was a display.

The stench was enough to make Anakin's eyes water.

The man had been here a long time.

A very long time.

Blood. Pain. Vomit. He could _smell_ them, almost _taste_ them.

Anakin expected urine and feces, but those scents seemed absent.

The only reason insects and rodents hadn't taken over was they'd been annihilated to the last gnat.

Hairless, twisted skin looked almost translucent.

Anakin feared.

But Anakin moved.

He circled the altar.

“Obi-Wan,” he choked.

Blue eyes tracked to meet his, and Anakin's heart gave a bound and promptly shattered.

Oh, Force, _Force_ —

“Am I hallucinating again?” Obi-Wan rasped.

Anakin's gaze tracked across his best friend's body. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop it.

How could the man be _alive_?

He could see _into_ his chest. It had been torn open, the ribs broken and held back by some soft-looking creature. A strange, amoebic film, yet another animal, covered the chest cavity, like a glass display top revealing pulsing heart and struggling lungs.

Every breath had to be torture.

Coral grew into his neck.

Or was it _out of_?

So much closer, Anakin now knew for a _fact_ that Obi-Wan couldn't so much as wiggle a finger.

He reached out with his mind to him, but the Force in Obi-Wan felt twisted.

And the _pain_ his Master endured...

It nearly brought Anakin to his knees.

“I—I can't sense you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I can't feel the Force. They did something to my head.”

Anakin tried not to look at the soft creature that had tentacles slipped deep into Obi-Wan's skull. Into his _brain._

There had to be at least six different organisms attached to the broken body lying before Anakin.

He couldn't sense a single one of them.

“Ahsoka, I found him. He's alive. Tell the Alliance. I need medical teams. I need _scientists_. We have to find a way to free him. He's covered in — Vong tech. _Hurry._ ”

He didn't register his former Padawan's response.

They couldn't stay on this planet. They had to get somewhere better.

He ignited his lightsaber and tried to see where he could safely cut to free Obi-Wan from the altar.

The instant his blade touched stone, Obi-Wan's pupils blew out and he screamed.

Anakin jerked back in horror.

“They _know_ —” Obi-Wan gasped. “They _know_ what you're trying; they'll kill me if you continue. Slowly, excruciatingly, but fatal.”

“How is that different from what is happening now?” Anakin demanded, staring at his Master's emaciated form. Skin barely holding together over gaunt limbs. Bones shattered long ago and left to their own devices. Eyes sunk into his head, the hollows dark and deep.

“Now, they're not killing me. They don't want to kill me. They're keeping me alive.”

“Whatever _for_?”

“A gift to their gods, to grant them victory.”

Anger surged through Anakin's bloodstream. If he ever got his hands on the Vong in charge...

“Don't touch me, don't touch them, and don't try to move me. Anakin, you need to bring in the scientist teams. Maybe, maybe they can learn something, enough to help the next—” Obi-Wan's breath gave out.

“Easy, Master,” Anakin crooned. “Rest.”

“I've had a _year_ of resting,” Obi-Wan panted. “Nothing can undo what I've experienced. But if we can _use_ this, if they can find a way to help the _next_ one so _they_ don't have to suffer this, so maybe _they_ can be saved — I don't want to die until this has been _used_ to help — I can't have this be for nothing—” There was a pleading, anguished fire in his eyes.

“Obi-Wan, hush, hush, they're on their way.” Anakin tried to send soothing calm into his Master's mind. He had no idea if Obi-Wan would feel it, but—

Obi-Wan screamed again, and the vessels in his eyes ruptured, reddening them.

“I haven't done anything!” Anakin cried.

Obi-Wan's desperate, hollow gaze stared up in his general direction. “They recognize you as a Jedi,” he hissed through the agony. “Get back. _Get back_. They'll kill me rather than let you —No— _get out_! _Stay_ out!”

Anakin raced for the doorway.

The instant he crossed the threshold, Obi-Wan's gut-torn cries stilled.

 

* * *

 

Anakin paced the observation area, utterly ragged.

The temple had been turned into a scientific outpost, full of white plastoids, blinding lights, observation cams, harsh cleaning fluid smells and tarps across the floor.

Scientists and doctors wrapped from head to toe in protective gear, wearing masks and disposable gloves, buzzed importantly around Obi-Wan.

An audio feed had been set up, linking to the balcony, and Anakin watched through the window with a bleeding heart, unable to do anything for his Master but wait and listen.

“The subject has been identified as Obi-Wan Kenobi. Former general of the Grand Army of the Republic. Master of the Jedi Order, and current member of the Alliance Council. The subject's eyes are open, and it appears to have some form of consciousness. According to the testimony of the individual who found him, Jedi Knight and also former General Anakin Skywalker, the subject spoke. We will now attempt communication with the subject.”

The plastoid-wrapped figure stepped closer to the altar.

“Master Kenobi. Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” came the grating reply.

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“How long have you been in this condition?”

“I—”

Anakin grit his teeth as he heard the struggle in the man's voice.

Ahsoka moved close to him, trying to bring comfort by her presence.

It wasn't helping much.

“I don't know for sure. They had me for two months before they began— began this— it was a slow process, to reach— I tried to keep track, but I know I lost time—”

That would mean he'd been like this for ten months.

_Ten_.

“Have you been given any food, water, or injections in this time?”

“No.”

“Do you have any idea where your sustenance has come from?”

“I think you can see the... _thing_... wrapped around and through my digestive tract,” Obi-Wan murmured. “I think it's been a combination. It's been taking the nutrients I already had, recycling them, and feeding them back through. I also suspect it's leeching minerals from my bones, and its waste products are sustaining me. Just a theory.”

Murderous, Anakin somehow stood still.

_Those things have been_ eating  _him, and they've been force-feeding him their kark to keep him alive?_

“It has been said that you stated a belief that this setup isn't intended to kill you.”

“It's designed to prolong pain. It's also designed to kill me should it be tampered with. Better the sacrifice be early and incomplete, than not made at all.”

Fingernails drove into Anakin's palm.

Somehow he kept listening as they continued.

_Everyone_ had questions for Obi-Wan.

The medical personnel.

The alien mind profilers.

The anthropologists.

The chemists. The biologists. Anyone and everyone trying to study the Yuuzhan Vong.

Obi-Wan answered them.

The fact he could speak at all, let alone so much, meant he'd been intentionally keeping his voice in use. For ten months.

_Talking to himself so he would be able to talk to us should we ever get here._

Anakin couldn't imagine the loneliness. The emptiness. The pain.

_How did he not lose hope?_

_What if I had given up the search? How long would he have held on to the hope of being found? When would he realize I wasn't coming?_

Or would he  _never_ have realized it?

It killed Anakin, the thought he'd been tiring, been thinking he might be forced to quit, when Obi-Wan never stopped looking for his arrival.

_Why do you trust me so much? You shouldn't. You really shouldn't._

The nameless beings in white took scans from a distance. They took holos.

It nearly drove Anakin mad.

His master lay there, broken and unclothed, and they took pictures.

“You know they're his only hope of surviving,” Ahsoka pointed out, seeing and feeling his turmoil. “They have to learn everything they can.”

“I know,” he snapped back. “But the least they could do is call him 'the patient' rather than 'the subject.'”

Ahsoka didn't take offense. She simply stood with him, and suffered alongside her former Master.

And then, after an eternity of probing questions, Obi-Wan asked for Anakin.

They provided a holodisc. Put it on a stand where Obi-Wan could see it, and another in the observation balcony.

Anakin stood by the wide viewport, where he could alternate his gaze from his Master's hologram face to his Master's body below.

“I haven't left, Obi-Wan. And I'm not leaving. I promise. I'm right here. I'm in the window, watching.”

“My greatest regret is that you weren't with me before my capture. I wish you had been there—”

“So do I,” Anakin whispered, tears burning his eyes.

“—so you could have put your saber through my heart.”

Anakin's soul died.

“Anakin... in there... the cowardly receive quick deaths. Horrible, painful, terrifying, but then it's _over_. The stronger they perceive you to be, the more courage they think you have, the more pain they inflict; the longer they draw it out. I wish I had realized that sooner.”

Anakin stared at the man he considered his father.

He knew firsthand of Obi-Wan's strength and scrappy courage.

Of how much the mind inside that wiry frame could endure.

“Anakin. I've had months to think of a final request for you.”

“Don't, Master, I—”

“Let me speak, Anakin. It's my right as a Master to be allowed to entrust a final request to my former Padawan.”  
He was right, of course. It was a precious thing, something for the Padawan to hold on to when the Master was gone, one last thing for an apprentice to do for someone who had nurtured them for years.

_Obi-Wan's not going to die here,_ Anakin vowed to himself.

But...

If it eased his Master's mind, it would be cruel to refuse to allow Obi-Wan to speak...

So Anakin bit his tongue and gave him a nod to continue. He saw the relief in Obi-Wan's eyes. It burned him.

“If it comes to it, if you and Ahsoka will be taken, kill her, and then yourself.”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you say to someone who's been through so much?

Anakin swayed and had to clutch the windowsill in front of him for balance. “What?” he somehow managed to choke.

“My final request for you. _Don't let yourselves be taken alive._ I would rather kill you myself than have you or Ahsoka suffer this.”

Anakin couldn't believe his ears.

But his eyes confirmed it. Obi-Wan's face, his eyes, oh, sweet _Force_ , what had they _done_ to him? To convince him to beg his Padawan to murder his grand Padawan and commit suicide to avoid what had happened to him?

“Ahsoka's right here, beside me. She can hear you,” he rasped.

Force.

Ahsoka had heard that.

Obi-Wan was destroyed, and she was witnessing it.

But Obi-Wan was anything but ashamed. Anything but concerned. “Good.”

_Good? You told me to_ murder _her if we're about to be taken by the Yuuzhan Vong, and you don't mind her knowing?_

“Ahsoka. My request for you: don't let Anakin lose himself in anger. He's lost so much. Help him hold on to his light.”

“I promise, Master,” Ahsoka assured him, stepping into the holodisc's field of vision so he could see her. “You rest, Obi-Wan. Just rest.”

A clinical voice in the background droned on, oblivious to what was _really_ happening here. “From the initial study of the scans we've taken, the subject has been in this location for at least three months. Our observations suggest the body has been in its current position and state, though in another location, for somewhere between seven and nine months longer than that. This confirms what the subject speculated earlier.”

Anakin gagged. He felt Ahsoka blanch. He switched off communication as he sank to the floor, heaving sobs wracking his body.

Ahsoka, too horrified to be able to try to soothe him, stood still in shock, breathing shallow and eyes glassy.

 

* * *

 

“Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan's eyes opened, and he found himself looking up at Senator Organa.

“Bail,” he whispered.

He wanted to smile.

Couldn't remember how.

So he just looked up at him.

Bail's face twisted, but he mastered his expression quickly. “Anakin and Ahsoka are in the balcony. They haven't left it for a moment. You can't see them, but they're always there, watching over you. They'd be down here, if they could. Are you sure the... creatures... will recognize them as Jedi? Wouldn't you rather have them _here_?”

“Of course I'd rather have them where I can see them, but I'm sure. Ahsoka tried when she first arrived. It's... it simply _is_ , Bail. Thank you for coming.”

“Are you kidding? They told me of your condition and I had a heart attack wondering if _I'd_ sent you here. You normally only end up this bad if it was my idea to visit a planet.”

The Senator expected a smirk. A gleam of humor.

Anything.

There was nothing.

Obi-Wan didn't have anything to give.

He felt vaguely sorry over it.

 

* * *

 

“So, I got here before the rush. The Council of Evils is just behind me.”

Obi-Wan didn't respond. Bail wasn't even sure he'd heard him. His eyes remained aimed for Bail's face, but no movement gave away his thoughts.

It was bizarre. Even on Zigoola, Obi-Wan had managed to scrape up some of his wry gallows humor.

The fact he couldn't now scared Bail.

He'd just have to try again.

“So I've seen a lot of white-suited types around.”

“Every sort.” Again, no hint of a smile. “If I have to endure this, we might as well make the most of it.”

Bail felt his heart constrict. “I suppose the first thing they did was give you painkillers, at least?”

“They tried. The chemicals were neutralized. They tried to give me a sedative to knock me out. Same result. I feel everything, Bail. And these things won't let me remain passed out. They let me sleep only on their own schedule and for how long they choose. It's different every time. I never know if I'll be allowed to sleep... or forced to go without for days at a time, falling asleep only to be tortured awake minutes later. Over and over and over. Your mind does strange things with that kind of sleep deprivation and pain. Strange things.”

Bail couldn't believe the sheer cruelty of it. He'd been doing his best to _not_ look at his friend's exposed, broken form. The soft creatures sunk deep into his guts. The creatures holding his chest open.

The ones fused with the bones of his wrists. Ankles. Knees. Spine.

Skull.

Bail's gut clenched, threatening him with nausea.

If he stayed any longer, he was going to experience a severe composure malfunction. And Obi-Wan hated it when people mourned over him.

“I'll be back,” he choked. “I'm just going to go— talk to—”

But he hadn't come up with a good excuse by the time he was rushing for the door, the stench of Obi-Wan's corpse burning his sinuses.

_That's what he is. A soul trapped in a corpse._

 

* * *

 

When Bail stepped into the balcony, Anakin saw him stumble, just a little.

Face ashen, eyes haunted, the man looked sunk in horror.

Anakin understood the response.

Nothing could prepare one to actually _experience_ Obi-Wan's current condition. “Senator.”

Bail moved to the window. Looked down. Reached up to stroke his beard to hide his mouth.

“How did we let this happen?” he asked after a long silence.

Anakin closed his eyes against the pain. He had no answer to give.

It was a question he'd asked himself so many times. Qui-Gon's death. His Mother's death. Ahsoka leaving the Order. Padmé's death.

And now Obi-Wan...

Obi-Wan's living death.

A soft, catlike footstep in the front door behind them turned Bail, but Anakin knew who'd arrived without looking.

Maul.

He reached the window with a combination of mechanical stiffness and grace. A hiss escaped the former Sith's lips as he stared down at his nemesis.

As the rest of the Council arrived, he turned, his golden eyes daring anyone to deny his wish. “I claim first audience.”

No one seemed inclined to object, so Maul sped out the secondary door.

Anakin, tense and unhappy, felt more than saw Palpatine move to the window. “Such a waste,” his former mentor murmured. “We could have studied someone less useful.”

Anakin's fingers clenched into tighter fists. He could feel Ahsoka's warning glance.

Tarkin and Bane said nothing, just watching with cold, uncaring eyes. Bail moved out of the way, coming to stand with Anakin and Ahsoka.

“Has Satine been told?” he murmured.

Anakin nodded.

Somehow, _somehow_ he'd managed to make that call. She'd deserved to hear it from him. It had been hell. “She's on her way.”

And then _that_ presence entered the room. Anakin forced himself to not turn around.

 

* * *

 

Bail felt his skin prickle, and turned his head to find Thrawn's red gaze considering the huddled three. He slowly swept to the window, standing apart from the others. His gaze moved, methodical, thoughtful, to the Jedi below.

Maul came into view down there, and moved to where Obi-Wan could see him. “Kenobi.” His voice carried clearly over the audio system.

Anakin, watching his Master in the Force, expected _some_ sort of response to Maul's visit...

But there was nothing. It was like Obi-Wan had been burned out, and only a lifeless shell remained.

Maul waited, as though expecting _something_.

“How does it feel? To know that killing me would be mercy?” Obi-Wan murmured.

Maul snarled a mirthless laugh. “If I had been the architect of this, it would have been perfect. Since I wasn't, I have more motivation than even Skywalker to encourage the scientists to find a way to free you from this prison _alive_.”

“Is that why you came down here? To tell me you're going to save me to kill me?”

“Did you expect another message?”

“I thought maybe you had something you wanted me to tell Qui-Gon. Or your brother.”

Anakin's knuckles ached and he clenched his teeth.

 

* * *

 

Maul's gaze flitted to the side, but he controlled himself from looking back up at his former Master.

Oh, he hated that man. _How_ he hated that man.

Losing Kenobi to this fate was unfortunate. Not just because it meant his revenge would remain imperfect, but because, though Maul would never admit it, Obi-Wan's strategic mind had been a significant asset.

But Maul had a card in reserve.

His mother.

None of them knew of her continued existence. Sidious was under the blissful impression he'd killed her. Like he'd killed Savage.

Away from Palpatine's prying eyes she was seeking out creative options against the Yuuzhan Vong.

Oh, they would drive them from their galaxy.

One way or another.

“You will take no messages,” Maul murmured, “because you are going nowhere.”

He turned and walked out.

 

* * *

 

It was Tarkin who came to see him next.

Obi-Wan didn't know why he even bothered.

He just stood there, looking superior, gaze raking across the damaged body.

_I can't be much to look at_.

Then again, Tarkin had disliked him from the beginning. Perhaps it was personally satisfying to see the Jedi this humiliated and hurt.

Neither of them said a word.

After long minutes of just watching Obi-Wan breathe, watching his heart beat, Tarkin turned on his heel and walked out.

Obi-Wan let his eyes drift shut.

At least he hadn't had to speak.

Speaking was so... exhausting, and he'd done so _much_ of it—

His mind shut down. His body reached for sleep.

Sank under.

 

* * *

 

The scientists exploded in silent productivity, thrilled to have the opportunity to watch something _new_.

The subject  _sleeping_ .

Cad Bane watched as Obi-Wan was jolted awake, screaming, by the creatures that lived by consuming his flesh and feeding it back to him. “How long is he going to last like this?”

“He lasted a year,” Anakin rasped.

Bane's gaze shifted to his face.

Anakin couldn't guess what he was thinking.

“I'm going to go have a little chat with our esteemed scientists.” Bane exited.

Anakin had been confident they could procure Bane's mind and experience for the Alliance as long as they paid him.

What he _hadn't_ expected was for Bane to be so willing.

Or on his way to offer his services to  _them_ before they decided to try to hire him.

Apparently he'd done his own calculations and realized that the Yuuzhan Vong weren't going away.

_And_ that the Yuuzhan Vong in control would seriously harm business. Vastly.

Anakin hoped he could think of something that perhaps the scientists had missed. He didn't care who he had to thank for Obi-Wan's release, as long as it was  _accomplished._

Bane was very good at thinking outside the box, and he came from the other side of the universe. The murky illegal side.

Tarkin and Maul reentered the balcony, and Palpatine went down.

Anakin watched through the window and listened as he gloated. Actually gloated.

It made him sick.

Obi-Wan didn't seem to care. At all.

It equally relieved Anakin and made him hurt.

He wanted to see Obi-Wan fight back and defend himself...

But apparently his Master didn't feel it worth the effort.

Without any indication that any of the barbs were hitting the mark, Sidious grew bored and left, just a bit disappointed.

That brought the dark curve of a smile to Anakin's lips.

Mark one for Obi-Wan, tortured though he might be, and zero for the Sith who could walk and turn his head, not to mention the fact that he could breathe without agony.

And then Thrawn left the observation room.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan knew, when the quiet, cultured voice requested privacy, that he was in for something.

All of the attending scientists filed out, shutting the doors behind them.

They switched off the one-way audio link leading to the balcony.

Obi-Wan couldn't imagine his former Padawan appreciated that.

But it also allowed him to speak freely.

“I assume you're here to analyze the work of art I've become,” Obi-Wan greeted before he could see the man. “It's Anakin you're sealing out.”

“They put significant effort and thought into your presentation. I will gain much from the perusal.”

“It's why I'm still here.” Obi-Wan felt the weariness to the depths of his soul.

The thing of it was...

He knew Thrawn could see it. Understood it in a way that not even Anakin could.

And then he could see the Chiss.

“Had I been able to block visuals, I would have,” Thrawn murmured. “But the fact remains that your former apprentice would have realized what I'd done sooner rather than later, so he may as well watch me do it now. He is clever. It is unfortunate that his lack of interest in mastering himself will prevent him from becoming something more.”

“If you think you can teach him restraint, by all means, be my guest. Nothing I've tried ever worked.”

“Control must come from within, General Kenobi. But then, you know that better than most.”

It was a compliment.

But Obi-Wan couldn't care.

“I came here with two purposes,” Thrawn continued, making a slow circuit around Obi-Wan's altar, his gaze taking in every detail. “One was to ask for your assistance in analyzing your experience with the Vong and inspecting all the details of the sculpture you have become.”

“You have that.”

“I would like to hear your reasons for not requesting death, or an immediate attempt to release you. You do not believe that you will be saved, no matter how much time they have to study and scheme.”

“Of course you would see that. Anakin holds hope. I do not. What is learned from my body will be useful only in the future. Quite possibly after several others have been studied as well.”

“You desire death. You crave it.”

“Wouldn't you?”

“Your reasons to resist this urge?”

“I tried giving in to it many times. I was prevented, each time, by the parasites. As for now? I've already suffered ten months of this. To leave now, before anything has been gained... would mean I had endured it for absolutely nothing. The thought that gave me a glimmer of hope through this last year was of being found and studied. Dissected, if need be.”

“The more use we gain from this, the better satisfied you will be.”

“It's the only thing to counter the pain.”

Obi-Wan could see understanding in the Chiss' eyes.

Once again, he seemed to have a better grasp on the situation than any of the others.

Somehow, even without the Force, Thrawn knew just how much agony he was currently experiencing. Always experiencing.

“My second reason for requesting privacy was to ask you a question.” Thrawn's red eyes bored into Obi-Wan's. “How much control do you have over your mind?”

“You probably have a better measure of that than I.” A wry smile touched his face. The first in months.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

For the first time, a ghost of a smile crossed Obi-Wan's face.

In response to something _Thrawn_ had said.

Anakin had no idea what the two were talking about, but the smile was like a breath of air to a suffocating man.

If Thrawn could convince him to keep living, to _fight_ to live —

Anakin blinked back tears.

_Oh, Obi-Wan..._

 

* * *

 

“Perhaps your estimation of my abilities is exaggerated,” Thrawn said, his voice quiet.

Obi-Wan huffed a hoarse laugh. “Is it? I have no doubt many things in my mind have become distorted. The pain has made it difficult to think. Even more difficult to remember anything outside of it.”

“We have been unable to capture a Yuuzhan Vong in order to speak with them.” Thrawn circled him once more. “And while your body will give me— has already— given me much insight, the opportunity to converse with a Vong would be invaluable towards defeating them. You want us to gain as much benefit from your suffering as is possible.”

“You think I could become one,” Obi-Wan murmured.

Thrawn's eyes seemed to brighten. “I enjoy how keen your mind is.”

“They tried to convert me, those first two months. What makes you think that two months would have given me enough to manage?”

“Because they are still trying to convert you, and if it were not enough, they would have provided more.” Thrawn's gaze danced across Obi-Wan's broken form. “This shows hope as well as sacrifice. They gave you everything you needed to make peace with the gods. Did they not?”

A memory. Violent. Red. Clear. “I was told as much when they left me.”

It was Thrawn's turn for a smile touch his face. “We have everything you need to convert you. I cannot stress how crucial the information gained would be.”

“The only problem being that I _don't_ believe a word of it,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “Which is where your question about my control over my mind comes in, no doubt.”

“General Kenobi, I have no doubt the process could be accomplished. Completely. That is not the question. You may doubt your ability, but I understand your resolve. And with that and my knowledge, it would work. However, it would erase who you are now.”

“It would destroy my relationships. They would never forgive me.”

“You would have to let go of the four people you hold close. Yes. Not just because they may have difficulty in forgiving you, but because you will cease to care whether they do. Those relationships will die from _within_ you, and there will be no going back.”

“Would it fail to work if I kept a spark of light within me? Hid away memories for after we're done?”

“I suspect the creatures will respond only if the conversion is genuine. Part of the gauge of authenticity will be how they respond. I am confident they would _not_ be fooled by a double game. Not when they are here to usher you into the light.”

Obi-Wan could feel the truth of that. It made sense of the unanswered questions of the last ten months. “You are asking me to give up my soul.”

“I am asking you to exchange your soul for the lives and freedom of a galaxy and all its future generations.”

Thrawn didn't push. He didn't even stand there and watch Obi-Wan's face.

Instead, he stepped closer, crouched down and traced patterns the coral creatures made when joining Obi-Wan to the altar with his gaze.

Learning. Calculating.

Analyzing.

Obi-Wan let his weary eyelids drift shut.

Above all else, he wanted his suffering to _accomplish_ something. To make a difference. The bigger the better.

He couldn't help but remember Master Giiet.

Fatally wounded by blasterfire, the Jedi had elected to stay behind his fleeing brethren, waiting until the horde of enemies had reached him.

And then he took a lightsaber to a fuel tank, and they all went up in an explosion Obi-Wan could still see when he closed his eyes.

It had made a vast impression on Padawan Kenobi, who had been one of those escaping.

If you're dying anyway, why waste it? Why not make it as spectacular, as effective as possible? Why drift quietly into the night when you could run into its arms with a battle-cry?

He  _knew_ what Thrawn could do with a mind  _without_ being able to have direct contact with it.

What he could do  _with_ that...

_It would give us such a better chance._

Not only that.

If the creatures  _did_ respond to his... change... it would be priceless for the doctors and scientists to observe. It might give them a breakthrough insight. Could prevent years of head-banging futility.

After all, there was only so much they could learn from watching time pass. The creatures wouldn't let them get close with technology of any kind. There wasn't much more they could do than passively record observations.

The next step would be trying to open some of them up or remove a few for study.

_They won't allow either._

So either they tried anyway and allowed the creatures to kill Obi-Wan and  _hope_ to learn something new from the autopsies that they  _hadn't_ been able to discover the first few hundred times they'd inspected corpses of Vong tech and prisoners...

Or...

_We make a real difference._

_When I die, my essence will scatter across the Force and I will lose who I am now_ anyway _. How big a difference would this be, except that I can accomplish more? I lose my personality a little bit sooner, but in exchange I don't die a victim. I die undermining them._

“Admiral.”

A whisper of feet.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, though it hurt so much to do so.

“I will need time to consider.”

Thrawn bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Of course.” He turned to leave.

“Would you please keep the audio feed off, and tell all of the scientists to stay out for now? And—”

“And send the Duchess of Mandalore down, still in privacy mode, the moment she arrives?”

Jedi and Chiss shared a glance.

“You continue to demonstrate your observation skills,” Obi-Wan mused.

Thrawn gave him the faintest smile. “I have no doubt the Mandalorian who has embraced reason over tradition will help you find clarity, in whichever direction that may fall.”

And then Obi-Wan was alone with his thoughts.

Thrawn's uncanny conclusions bothered the kark out of Anakin. He hated the knowledge he'd been out-thought.

Obi-Wan found comfort in it.

_It's a good thing, a_ very  _good thing, we have someone working against the Vong who is smarter than me._

_Obviously, I wasn't good enough to stop them._

Hours slipped by.

He considered the question from every angle he could imagine or invent. He tried out every point of view he could find.

But it wasn't enough.

He needed Satine.

It didn't at all surprise him that here, at the end, he would need her.

 

* * *

 

“The Duchess has arrived.”The message came through.

Anakin, leaning against the wall with his foot braced on it and arms crossed, immediately pushed away.

“Go, Anakin,” Ahsoka assured him. “I'll stay with Obi-Wan.”

He gave her a thankful nod and sprinted out, leaving her alone in the balcony.

The Alliance Leadership had left a long time ago. Anakin didn't know if they were still on planet or not, or what sort of meeting they might be holding.

He didn't care.

The war was meaningless while Obi-Wan lay there suffering.

Anakin intercepted the Duchess at the entrance to the palace. She wore pants and a tunic in a dark blue and an even darker green, her hair tied back out of the way, and no frills, lace, or finery of any sort.

“Where is he?” she asked.

Behind her stood a young man Anakin only vaguely recognized from dropping off and picking up Ahsoka from Mandalore a few years earlier.

The Duchess' nephew had certainly grown up.

Then again...

So had Ahsoka.

Anakin led them into the building.

“How is he?” Satine asked.

Anakin fought the lump in his throat. “He's... it's bad, Duchess. Very bad.”

“How did they leave him?”

“A lot of broken bones that haven't healed properly. Naked. Unable to move at _all._ The scientists are treating him like an experiment, not a person, and Thrawn seems to think he's _artwork_.” 

The only reason Anakin wasn't trying to menace Thrawn off the planet was because the Chiss had made his Master smile when no one else could.

The  _only_ reason he'd stood up there and watched, with grit teeth, as Thrawn circled his Master like he was an exhibit in some museum.

“What has he learned?”  
Anakin, caught off balance, threw Satine a baffled glance. She wasn't... offended?

She met his questioning gaze with a calm one of her own.

“I don't know. But I don't know if you understand.” He glanced at Korkie for some help. “It's... it's sickening. You can see  _inside_ him, and... it's...”

He wasn't prepared for Satine's compassionate glance. “He's been laid out like a trophy. I understand.”

“I really don't think you do.”

“You've never seen what my people do to Jedi, have you?” she asked, her steps strong and determined.

“I don't think—”

“If you had seen what my people are casually capable of, you'd be the one advocating a Mandalorian never touch a weapon again.”

He didn't quite know what to make of that.

He hoped the shock wouldn't be too much when she finally saw him.

No matter the horrors she _thought_ she'd seen, he was confident this was going to make them seem merciful.

After all, this was a woman who refused to defend herself and her loved ones. A pacifist. Anakin tried to see what Obi-Wan saw in her, since she clearly meant so much to his Master, but...

She didn't have the sheer guts that Padmé did.

_Had._

That Padmé  _had_ .

Anakin Skywalker shut down.

He led them up the stairs and into the observation chamber, dimly grateful it was still deserted except for his former Padawan.

Korkie and Ahsoka exchanged sober nods of recognition, but Satine only managed to send her a glance as she glided to the window.

Anakin expected some sort of response from her. Startled horror. Shock. Something.

In the Force, all he could sense was her calm grief.

Korkie, on the other hand, took one look, jumped, swore, his eyes darting away and back again to take the sight in a little at a time.

A footstep at the door, a Force signature that made Anakin jumpy—

“Duchess Kryze.”

Satine turned to look at the Chiss. “Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

“Master Kenobi requested your presence.”

_What do_ you  _care?_ Anakin inwardly snarled.

“All surveillance except for visual has been turned off, and the staff are out of hearing range.” Thrawn gestured towards the doorway that would lead Satine down to the level below.

“Thank you.” She sounded so duchessly.

How could she, with Obi-Wan down there like that?

Anakin didn't understand this sort of behavior.

At  _all._

And he  _really_ couldn't figure out how Satine, can't-draw-blood-Satine, could look at that carnage without a flinch.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan recognized the gentle step behind him.

His next inhale brought a familiar fragrance that drew a feeling of safety and acceptance over him he hadn't felt in a very long time.

He waited, not wanting to miss her voice when it came.

“Oh, Obi.”

He had to swallow hard against the lump in his throat. “You came.”

“You silly Jedi,” she chided, coming around to where he could see her and leaning over his face. “Of course I did.”

She was _there_. It wasn't a hallucination, or a method of surviving the long months of torment.

_Here._

Now.

“I think the Vong may hate Jedi more than your kinsmen ever did,” Obi-Wan tried to joke.

She arched an eyebrow. Oh, how he'd missed that expression. “Is it hate?”

“No. It isn't.” _They want to make me one of them. And we might be able to turn that desire against them. We may be able to make it their mistake._

Satine knelt beside him, placing her face on a level with his. “Has no one tried to cover you up?”

He made a rueful face. “Anakin insisted they try. Near the beginning. The symbionts didn't respond well, so the project was given up. Besides. The scientists weren't really too keen on having to fuss with something as inconvenient as modesty.”

The pitying glance in her eyes...

It burned.

He had to get _rid_ of it.

“It might not be all bad.” He put a sly tone into his voice, cast his face into a seductive smile. “Want to see what you missed out on, all those years ago?”

Satine laughed, low and musical. “I'm glad to see your sense of humor seems unharmed.”

He knew the sparkle drained from his eyes, leaving them looking dead. He could feel it.

Could see it in the way she watched his face.

She had always been able to see through him, when her mind wasn't clouded by anger.

It wasn't now.

Given what was left of his own mind...

That left him very vulnerable.

The difference between Satine's insight and Thrawn's would be that Satine loved him.

He hadn't pretended with Thrawn, and he didn't want to pretend with her. He didn't want to act like he was going to make it out of this. He didn't want to avoid revealing what had passed through his mind over the last ten months.

And yet... here he was. Bantering, instead of getting to the heart of the matter.

_Enough._

“Your people wouldn't have left me in a sterile environment. I would have died of infection months and months ago.” He could hear the yearning in his voice.

“My people would have emasculated you and cut bones from your body to carve into trophies. Probably would have worked on them where you could watch,” Satine murmured. The words were matter-of-fact.

And she was right, of course.

“Apparently the Vong are greedier. I _am_ the trophy.” He watched her gaze trace the creature whose tentacles sank into his brain, the coral fused to his spine, wrists and elbows, then up to his opened chest. It settled over his beating heart, almost a caress.

“It's so different to see it, after having trusted in it for so long.”

Obi-Wan felt his pulse quicken, saw her eyes soften in response. “You see what you do to me?” he murmured. “You always have.”

Satine's eyes found his again. So beautiful. So calm.

None of the frantic anguish Anakin and even Bail exuded.

For the first time in almost a year, Obi-Wan felt like he could relax.

That he  _wanted_ to. Her presence brought relief to his spirit in a way only she ever could. She was the muse of his soul.

 

* * *

 

Satine knew Obi-Wan was unable to reach the Force at the moment, so she tried to express calm on her face, in her eyes, in her voice since he couldn't  _feel_ it. It was the least she could do.

“You don't know how I long to  _stand_ ,” he whispered. “To feel the wind on my face. To draw just  _one breath_ without pain—”

She didn't interrupt him.

If he needed redirection, Anakin would provide all that he could take and  _more._

What he needed from her was to be  _heard._

“I'm so tired, Satine.”

“I know, love. I know.” A realization dawned on her. She spoke quietly, gently, keeping her shoulders relaxed, even though fear laced through her guts. “You didn't call the creatures parasites. You called them symbionts.”

There was a squint to his left eye that she recognized all too well. A subtle wince.

It chilled her to the bone.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Satine knelt there, waiting for an answer.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I'll tell you, but first... did you think I was dead?”

“I hoped, love.” The gentleness in her voice soothed the fire of pain Obi-Wan lived in now. “I hoped.”  
“Anakin didn't,” Obi-Wan sighed. “He wanted me alive. He  _wanted_ to find me alive.”

“He isn't a warrior,” Satine pointed out. “He doesn't think in those terms, Obi-Wan. You know he doesn't believe there  _is_ a good time or way to go. Not before the age of ninety.”

“He sees me, but he doesn't really  _see._ The look on his face when I told him I wished he'd been there to kill me before the Vong could take me.”

“I couldn't have done it either.”

Obi-Wan gave her a faint smile. “That's because it would violate your oath to never kill, not because you refuse to let me go.”

“You're his buir, Obi.”

“He would put me through this all over again rather than let me go.”

“Would you have done any different with Qui-Gon?”

“Perhaps not, if the choice had been given to me at Anakin's age, but I can't tell you how thankful I am Qui-Gon is safe from  _ever_ experiencing this.”

She didn't say anything, just _looked_ her agreement.

“I didn't call them parasites because they aren't here to kill me. And even if someone succeeded in prying them from my body,  _they_ are all that's standing between me and death.”

Understanding softened her eyes. “To leave them is to live in pain for who knows how long, and to attempt to remove them is to die.”

“Yes.”

There was no furious denial in her face. No scrambling for an alternative answer. If  _he_ wanted to demand they find an answer, she would support him.

But she wouldn't  _force_ him to look for one.

So unlike Anakin.

_She hoped I was dead._

The knowledge eased the ache in his heart.  _She wouldn't force me to stay._

She cared more about what was best for him, than what she wanted him to do for her.

Also unlike Anakin.

Anakin would refuse to let him die, not because death would be so horrible for Obi-Wan, but because he was unwilling to cause himself the pain of losing him. Anakin's frantic refusal to accept what had happened, what  _was_ happening here had nothing to do with helping Obi-Wan.

It had everything to do with helping Anakin.

_He loves me. I know he does._

But it wasn't a selfless thing, by any means. Anakin loved himself  _more._

The thought of lingering, with only marginal progress being made by the scientists towards understanding...

It was a nightmare.

“Satine, the pain— it's been so  _long_ —”

“I know,” she soothed.

He couldn't see. Tears blinded him. Satine, by her mere presence, had cut through all of the walls of protective numbness he'd built for himself. Her presence had sparked his will to survive. That unreasonable, desperate  _need_ to escape. Wild, frantic panic at being held down for so long.

He tried to breathe.

Couldn't get enough air.

Couldn't take a  _single_ second  _longer_ —

Satine reached out her hand but paused. “Will it hurt you if I touch your face?”

“I don't know. Nobody's tried,” he somehow managed to grit.

Satine's hand disappeared from view, returned covered in a thin disposable glove.

He was unprepared for the touch of a loving hand. Fingertips in a gap between the creatures, lightly touching the skin of his face.

He nearly whimpered.

He'd had no contact with  _anyone_ for  _so long..._

And even with Anakin here, he couldn't reach the Force, couldn't  _feel_ him.

He clung to the light pressure of Satine's fingers, letting his eyelids fall shut.

“I'm here now,” she murmured. “K'uur. Udesi, Mando'ad.”  
He clung to her words, even if they  _were_ inaccurate. He was no child of Mandalore.

But he understood that was how she comforted. How she soothed. To her it best described him in connection with her.

Her fingers lightly moved, tracing his cheek.

_How_ he longed to lean into them.

He closed his eyes against the frustration. The pain of having life torn from him like this. There was so much  _more_ he'd wanted to do. His soul wanted to continue its raging, wanted to thrash his mind against the confines of its cage until it shattered.

_I didn't give in to insanity through the last ten months._

_I can't now. Not now._

Her steady pressure calmed his spirit enough that he could consider.

The situation hadn't changed with her arrival.

Her presence inevitably awakened that part of him that loved life. He didn't want to leave her.

_She's here to sit with me as I die. Not to save me. I can either rail against death, fight it to my last breath, force myself to believe that life equals hope and that I want to bleed for it; or I can savor what time we have left._

_You won't have that option with Anakin._

_He_ will  _struggle to the bitter end. He won't let you rest with him._

His heart's beat slowed, returning to normal. The pain and horror quieted in his mind to levels he'd learned to manage.

Tears slipped from under his lashes.

“Pain,” he whispered. “So much pain. In my body, in my  _mind._ ”  
“I know,” Satine whispered again. “I see it, love.”

“I'm so  _done_ ,” he pleaded. “Forgive me, I'm so  _done._ Anakin is ashamed of me; he looks at me in horror—”

“Easy, easy,” she soothed, fingers so gentle.

His heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. An ache he couldn't stand.

Satine hissed in surprise, a vicious sound, left over from when she'd been a predator. Her fingers jerked away from his face.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, found hers aimed below where he could see. Out of the corner of his eye he saw fluid appendages reaching up to steal his tears.

“It's normal,” Obi-Wan assured her, a bit distracted from his pain.

Satine watched the creature caress Obi-Wan's face, absorbing the liquid, crawling closer and closer to his eyes.

He grit his teeth against what he knew was coming.

“It's normal,” he repeated. “Don't move—”

Though that wasn't what he wanted.

He  _wanted_ her to go full Mando on these creatures. Dismember them. Burn them alive. Discover whether they  _could_ feel pain, and then proceed to inflict as much of it as possible before death.

He wanted to see that murderous fire in her eyes one more time. The old blaze that she'd become so good at controlling.

The gooey fingers crept closer, and soon they were penetrating the corner of his eyes.

Satine's breath hitched.

“Don't move,” he choked out again.

He could feel the light suction against his eyeballs as the creature absorbed every drop of moisture before retreating.

It left his eyes burning, dry, and so,  _so_ sore.

Crying wasn't worth it.

He closed his eyes and waited.

It took a little time, but finally his eyes stopped burning.

When he opened them he found Satine watching him with intense care.

He knew. He didn't need to  _sense_ it in the Force to know.

She wanted to go full Mando on these tormentors too.

By now a couple hundred ideas of where their weak points might be would have run through her analyzing subconscious. She would know every weapon possible in every room she'd passed through to reach him, and exactly how many seconds and fractions thereof it would take to appropriate any of them.

Then again, if she didn't have the patience or time to retrieve any of the improvised weapons...

She had a catalogue of ideas to try with her bare hands. Ideas she'd  _very much_ like to discover any effectiveness of...

There was the tightness in her eyes he knew so well. The leash she kept on the fury that boiled so intensely at the core of her soul.

_There are ways in which she and Anakin are so alike._

Except Anakin didn't have her dedication in harnessing his. He still had explosive, murderous accidents. And while he mourned over them later, with guilt enough to scuttle a star destroyer, he never seemed to find the motivation to prevent the next one.

“I'm sorry,” Obi-Wan whispered. “It's cruel of me to ask you to stay here.”

The tension drained away from her, and her fingertips grazed his forehead. “No, love,” she murmured. “If it was my time, I'd want you with me, soothing my passage.” “You wouldn't want me to fight for you? To keep you here?”

Satine smiled, a reproachful smile. “No, darling. No. I wouldn't want frantic lies that I'd be alright. I'd want you to hold my hand and look me in the eyes. If you couldn't speak without telling me a false platitude, I'd rather you not say a word at all. Just hold me as I slip away. Not waste a second.  _That_ would be my perfect death.”

He stared into those beloved blue eyes, so full of compassion, of grief...

“Would you let me go?” he whispered. “If I called them in, asked them to end it. Asked them to put me down. Would you let me go?”

Tears formed a layer of silver over her eyes in the dying sun's bloody glow.

At first she couldn't say a word, and her fingers lightly stroked his forehead.

After long moments of grief, she gave him a comforting smile. “Yes, Obi.”

She was trying  _so_ hard to keep her voice steady for him.

The result was an almost inaudible whisper.

How he  _loved_ her.

So selfless. She had always been so selfless towards him.

She'd let him follow his passion instead of insisting he stay with her, though she  _had_ to have known he would have given it all up for her if she'd asked.

He'd told her so once, half hoping she would make that request.

But even after years of aching, she put him first.

She always put him first.

He adored her for it. He'd tried to give her the same in return. It felt so paltry, compared to hers...

Everything might change, once he told her of Thrawn's proposal, but that was a risk he had to take.

“Would you let me go even if there was a detour before death?” Obi-Wan asked.

Satine's brow furrowed in confusion. “What detour?”

“Thrawn wants to discuss philosophy with a Vong. He believes that between the two of us and the creatures, I could for all intents and purposes become one.”

He expected a flare of anger from her, expected her to rage how that wasn't a  _plan_ , it was  _stupid,_ and he wasn't  _really_ considering it, was he?

But that wasn't Satine.

She had the mind of a warrior, and she instantly saw the strategic value.

Anakin despised and hated Thrawn.

Satine, despite the best efforts of her chosen pacifistic nature, admired him. Greatly. The way a bird of prey would recognize another skilled hunter. The way a musician respected one of the great music masters.

Obi-Wan could see her mind had made the same calculations as his own.

And come up with very similar results.

“Do you want this?” she asked quietly.

She had never tried to force on him what  _she_ wanted for him. Ever. So unlike Anakin. Unlike Bail, even. Oh, how he valued it.

“I want to make as big a difference as I can, as soon as I can. I could linger for years like this, or they could try to tear the creatures apart and I could die without them finding anything very useful. They  _have_ tried taking living Vong tech apart before, and they've gained just a notch above absolutely nothing. Satine, I  _have_ to know this pain, this... nightmare... has amounted to something more than a few petty statistics.”

Satine watched his eyes, his face, weighing his words.

“I don't want to go out quietly,” he murmured. “I don't want to be just another victim. I want to be the mistake they made. I want to be the one they  _should_ have killed. I want to know that I've given you, all of you, the best chance to survive I could with the cards dealt me. I have a unique opportunity here, Satine.”

She looked back at him, sorrowfully, without a hint of reproach.

“I know it's been a long time,” he ventured, his voice tender. “But I know you remember. What it feels like, to want to go down fighting.”

Her muscles tensed, just a bit.

“I know you left it behind. I respect that. You know I do.”

She relaxed, just a little, but there was still a hint of wariness in her eyes.

“Just as I know you respect the fact I haven't.”

The last of the tension drained away.

“Look at me, Satine. We once spoke of our dream deaths.”

A smile ghosted across her face. “We were young and naive.”

“Mine hasn't changed. From what you said a minute ago, yours has a little, but what I said then still looks good now.”

“You want to go out with a lightsaber in your hand, defending the innocent,” Satine remembered. “Go out fighting. Giving others a chance.”

“Anakin has never understood it. But I know you did. And you remember how it feels.”

Satine sighed. “It's in my blood, Obi-Wan. It burns there. It's taken years to learn how to control it.”

“I fought my capture.” Obi-Wan's eyes reflected the horror of that time. He knew it, but he couldn't help it. He saw its effect on his beloved. The pain in her eyes. “I didn't take out a single one of them, and I didn't save a single innocent. The scientists aren't going to learn enough from me. Not with passive observation or active dissection. But if I know I'm dealing the invaders a blow, and giving the people of this galaxy a fighting chance, I would suffer  _anything._ The last ten months would be infinitely worth it.”

Tears slipped their silent way down Satine's face. “I know, warrior-heart,” she whispered. “What is holding you back?”

“What it would do to the four of you. Thrawn was right when he used that number. You. Anakin. Ahsoka. Bail.”

Satine gave him a fond smile through the tears. “He is asking you to give up your soul, and you're worried about  _us_ .”

“It's going to hurt you more than it hurts me.  _I_ will be gone. The four of  _you_ will have to live knowing the individual in my body is not  _me,_ but something  _else_ . Something that hates you.”

“Obi-Wan, who are we to deny you your warrior's death? We should be the ones placing the sword in your hands and sending you off.”  
Tears slipped down his face. “You understand,” he choked. “You  _understand._ ”

“Of course I do, and I could never stand in the way of you making the end as brilliantly lit as you can. It's not my path, but I will not hold you back from yours.”

Now it was the  _Jedi_ smiling through tears. “You never have. I have your blessing?”

“Yes, Mando'ad. You reckless, crazy chakaar. Leave your mark. Save those innocents.” She caught his tears with her fingers, whisking them away before his companions had a chance to steal them.

“I love it when you speak Mando'a.”

She sent him a warning glance through lowered lashes. “Don't get used to it. I am not returning to that place again.”

How he wished he could reach out his hand and ghost his fingertips across her face.

He wanted to raise her hand to his lips. Let her feel the intensity of his gratitude to her,  _for_ her...

“Bail will think you are crazy, but I doubt he will assume you should hold back on his account.”

Ah, here it came. The calculations she'd already run through without consciously trying. The mind that if she would just _unleash_ it could take down almost any foe.

“He may hold it against you, but I think he will be more inclined to think you are foolish and reckless. That you did what you thought you needed to do, whether he agrees with the decision or not. And he won't.”

Obi-Wan's lip twitched in a smile. “He never was a warrior.”

“No.” Satine sighed. “I do not know how Ahsoka will respond. She understands doing drastic things because of feeling it's right. However, though she left the Order, she never left the _light_.”

“And what I propose is so, so much darker. Yes. But if she considered me a hero, I'm afraid I already shattered that image. My final request to Anakin was to kill her and himself if they are about to be captured by the Vong.”

Satine pursed her lips in amusement. “Which was very warrior of you, and neither of them took it very well.”

“Anakin worse than Ahsoka.”

“You should have been born in my family,” she chided. “If you'd surrounded yourself with Mandalorians instead of Jedi, such a notion would be accepted as rational and routine.”

“I wouldn't trade Anakin and Ahsoka for a planetful of Mandies.”

“You know I hate that term. I have _always_ hated that term.”

His sly smile told her he remembered.

And then every hint of light faded from him. “I can handle Ahsoka and Bail being disappointed and angry. They have others to turn to. They are dear to me, but not enough to stop me from something that could be  _this_ important to the survival of so many people.”

“And they wouldn't want you to,” Satine pointed out. “Even if they might not see it in this present scenario. If you had to choose between them and the lives of others, they would  _demand_ you save the others and let them die. They may see this differently, but the difference is merely cosmetic.  _And_ the fact that they won't die because of your choice. Which if anything should make it better.”

“It's Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered. And Satine  _couldn't_ take away that horror. “He will  _not_ understand. He won't even try to. And unlike Ahsoka and Bail, I fear he  _won't_ get over it. He lost his mother, he lost Padmé... other than Ahsoka, I'm all he has left.”

“Would you choose him over the possibility of a galaxy's survival against the Vong? Would  _he_ want you to choose him over it?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the pain. “Yes. He would want, and expect, me to choose him over all the others.”

A heavy silence fell between them.

Satine leaned back on her heels, her hand pulling away from Obi-Wan's forehead.

He ached at the absence of her fingers, but didn't want to disturb her mental analysis to request their return. Not quite yet.

“If you ask him for permission like you asked me, it's highly unlikely you're going to get it.”

Obi-Wan's heart felt like lead. “Make that impossible.”

“But if you make your decision and  _then_ tell him what the question is, it will be ugly.”

“Perhaps that's for the best.” The words hurt. Like hell. “If he feels I've betrayed him, if he cuts me off completely, then he won't stay. He won't hold on to hope our relationship might survive the conversion. If he holds on to me, he'll stay. He'll watch as I fade away and something else comes, and he will look for me in it every moment. The things the Vong says to him... Satine. It will  _know_ his weaknesses. His soul is so fragile, so easily wounded. If it attacks him using my voice...”

His words choked on the thought.

_That_ was what he feared most in this.

Not death. Not losing himself. Not hurting Satine or Ahsoka or Bail.

Fragile, fragile Anakin.

Somehow, Obi-Wan recovered his voice. “No one and nothing could  _keep_ him away. It has to be of his own free will. And the only way he'd want to leave is if he hates me.”

“Oh, Obi-Wan.” Her eyes revealed her pain.

“Am I wrong?” He searched her face for any hint, any sign that her Mandalorian mind had calculated something  _different._ “Either I give up, let him try to save my broken body so I live for  _years_ of no positive results; or try one desperate attempt to get me free, which  _won't_ work, it's in my brain and I  _know_ it for a fact...”

Satine's brow wrinkled again.

“Or I fight to the end. With or without Anakin's permission. And if I can't get that permission, then I have to try to minimize the damage I wreck on his soul.”

Troubled, she looked fully into his face. “You're not the first to think to drive away a loved one to protect them.”

“How many of those cease to exist moments after?”

“Obi-Wan, if you take this path, Anakin  _will be hurt._ Do you really want it to be you who inflicts the wounds, or an enemy?”

“If I take this path, whether I intentionally antagonize him or not, he'll be hurt by me. I might as well be the sole source. He might have a chance to recover that the Vong would not give him.”

For a long moment she didn't reply, her mind hard at work. And then her expression eased from strategist to something much gentler. “You have to decide, Obi-Wan. You have been so diligent to not let me become your self-destruct button. You have to determine whether you've allowed Anakin to take that place.”  
Obi-Wan knew it to his core. “I wanted to be what he needed,” he whispered.

“He'd been conditioned to need highly emotional, attached individuals to fluff his ego and to tell him he's forgiven of any wrongdoing.” Her words were quiet and free of judgment. She couldn't help the fact that her mind instantly found weaknesses. Anything and everything that could be used to take a person down. She used the skill to guard her friends and destroy her enemies. But she would never lie about a loved one's danger points. It could lead to death, if they pretended that approach was as strong as the rest. Because of that, love dictated honesty. “He needs their constant petting to fuel his high-maintenance personality, and he demands complete honesty from them without being willing to give it back in return.”

“When I faked my death, he was so furious that I'd betrayed him because I'd lied to him about something important. It was only after Padmé's death that he admitted he'd married her and was a father. It didn't even cross his mind the offense might be similar. He expected me to forgive him. Would have held it against me had I refused, would have accused me I didn't love him, and yet for months he withheld forgiveness from me to ensure I knew the gravity of my failure and betrayal.”

“He has never held _anyone_ to the same standard he holds himself,” Satine soothed. “You know how I love that boy.”

Obi-Wan smiled at the thought of the familiar discussions by holo. Satine asking after their “son.”

Anakin had never known. Likely never would. He was already weirded out by the Duchess of Mandalore; if he knew just  _how_ her brain worked, it would likely be upgraded to creep and restraining-order status.

“He is generous, impulsively sweet, kind, tenacious, so very clever. So willing to open his heart and give. There is still so much of a child there, even though he has gained a grace and majesty he lacked in his teenage years. There is much good in him. I cannot help you make this decision.” Her fingers lightly caressed his forehead again. “You don't answer to me. You never have. I don't want you to begin to. I will not cage you, darling. All I can do is tell you the weak points I've seen in our son. It's up to you to decide whether to point them out to him, guard them for him, or attack through them.”

Grim though they were, her words amused him.

_So_ Mandalorian.

Weak points were either to be covered by your vode, or to be exploited to their full advantage. And as a Mandalorian, it wasn't too large a step to go from one to the other.

_ I love you. I love  _ all  _ of you, even the parts of you that you hate. I love your brutal mind. I love the gentleness you've chosen. I love the warrior and the Duchess, and I hope someday you will find a way to love both halves of yourself as well. _

“You have always watched over me. Helped me be the best I could be.” Yes. His adoration was bleeding all through his eyes and tone.

That was quite alright.

“Those months that you hated me for becoming a general were the longest in my life. Until the last ten.”

A smile that was all teeth lit her face and sparkled in her eyes. “That started out being so romantic, Obi.”

“You prize truth more.”

And then it was _her_ eyes that revealed unbridled adoration.

If Maul was up on the balcony watching, he must be having  _fits._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Guide:  
> [Soothing Vocabulary 101]
> 
> Buir (Pronounced /boo-ear/) = Parent/ Father
> 
> K'uur (Pronounced /koor/) = Hush/shhh
> 
> Udesi (Pronounced /oo-DAY-see/) = Easy/Take it easy
> 
> Mando'ad (Pronounced /man-doh-ahd/) = Child of Mandalore/ A Mandalorian
> 
> Chakaar (Pronounced /chah-KAR/) = General term of abuse
> 
> Mandie = Derogatory term meaning Mandalorian
> 
> Vode (Pronounced /VOH-day/) = Brothers/Sisters/Close companions


	5. Chapter 5

 

Anakin leaned against the window, gaze taking in every movement. Every flinch.

The conversation was making him uneasy, and he wasn't sure why.

There was something terrible swirling around Obi-Wan. A longing. A determination. A request.

And Satine? Satine's Force signature didn't suggest a vehement attempt to put Obi-Wan back on course. She seemed sympathetic. Understanding.

Ahsoka sat in the corner, eyes closed, meditating.

Korkie stood a meter and a half away from Anakin, watching through the window. “How long have you known?” the young Mandalorian spoke up.

“Known what?” Anakin asked, unwilling to spare much thought on him when he _needed_ to figure out what crazy idea Obi-Wan was holding on to now.

“That those two...” Korkie shrugged.

The conversation felt weird to Anakin. Like trying to talk to Owen about Shmi and Cliegg.

“I've known for a while,” Anakin offered, evasively, worried that just like with Owen, Korkie had known first.

“I found out when Maul attacked us to hurt Master Kenobi.”

Anakin relaxed just a little.  _I knew quite a bit before he did, then._ “I don't know what would have happened to Obi-Wan if he'd failed and lost... if your Aunt hadn't made it.”

“Him and me both.” Korkie's gaze darkened as it rose to meet Anakin's face.

“Don't you have other family?” Anakin asked, remembering some obnoxious female Mando who had harassed Ahsoka once...

“It's not the same. I don't care that the bloodlines say differently. Satine is my Mom.”

Anakin's gut twisted.

Since the Tuskens, that had been a difficult word to hear.

“It's something Bo-Katan says is  _aliit ori'shya taldiin._ An ancient Mandalorian rule of life. It means that family is bigger than bloodlines. More important. That blood doesn't determine family. Commitment does.”

_Commitment._ Anakin stared down through the window at the broken form.  _Then I_ am  _your family, because you are as committed to me as you could be. And I to you. So you_ are  _my Father. Screw blood. It's us against this karky universe. Us and Ahsoka._

He threw a sideways glance at Korkie.  _And... I guess Satine and Korkie too._

Anakin had no doubt that if Obi-Wan had felt it right, he would have married Satine Kryze.

Satine seemed to know it too.

Weird thing was, she didn't seem to  _mind._ It had caused all kinds of awkwardness for Anakin when Padmé and he had been in a similar impasse.

Watching Satine gently wipe tears from Obi-Wan's face, Anakin reached out with the Force.

Satine  _didn't_ feel like it was an impasse. A frustration. She didn't feel thwarted or ill-used or...

She felt...

_Content._ And  _grief._ And  _pride._

And—

Something was very, very wrong. There was a strange song playing about her heart. Something he'd caught wind of in other people in the past—

Something he'd  _never_ understood, had  _always_ felt  _stupid_ , senseless—

What the hell was going on down there?

Satine was standing to leave.

Anakin would be finding out soon.

 

* * *

 

“Anakin, please—”

“What did you _expect_ I was going to say?” Anakin snarled. “In what universe would I _ever_ be okay with something like this?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the pain, against the frustration. This was going about as badly as he'd anticipated.

“I have a chance to take my life back on  _my own terms_ . You would deny me this?”  
“Take your  _life_ back? Obi-Wan, you're talking about becoming a monster and then  _dying._ Now I get that it's been horrible. I can  _see_ that. But you made it  _this far._ There's no point in quitting now.”

The frustration had almost reached the point of tears. “You're not  _listening_ to me, Anakin. Please,  _listen_ to me, just this once.”

“I listen  _far_ more often than you think—”  
“ _No._ I'm not saying listen to my  _words._ You  _do_ listen to them, even when you choose to ignore them  _afterwards._ Listen to my  _heart. That_ is what you don't listen to—”

“You're  _tired._ After you rest a little—”

“Anakin,  _look at me_ !”

His former Padawan refused. Anakin's gaze skittered  _anywhere_ but to Obi-Wan's eyes or body.

“Let me go.  _Please_ let me go,” Obi-Wan whispered.

“You're not asking for— to be—”

Anakin fell silent for a long moment, and when he managed to speak again, his voice was thick with tears. “It's not death. You're not asking for that. You're asking me to let you become something horrible, and  _then_ die.”

“No.” Obi-Wan closed his eyelids, hoping to ease the burning in his eyes. “I'm not asking you to let me.”

He couldn't sense his former Padawan, couldn't see him.

But he could practically feel the temperature of the room drop several degrees.

“What are you saying?” Anakin asked, his voice low. Strained.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Found Anakin's, cold and angry glaring back into his.

“This is my choice, Anakin,” he said quietly. “I'm asking you to support me in my decision. I'm asking you to stand by me in my final hours, and to not begrudge me the last shreds of dignity and rebellion and fight I have left.”

“No.” Anakin pointed a finger at him. “ _You_ don't get to do that.”  
Obi-Wan felt the last whispers of hope evaporate.

“You don't get to turn this into  _me_ being the selfish, unreasonable—  _I'm trying to save your life._ ”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, hopelessness sinking into his bones. It  _was_ too much to ask of Anakin. “I don't want it saved.”

“Right  _now_ you don't,” Anakin growled. “You'll thank me someday. You'll—”  
Tired.

_So_ tired.

Months of this... and even if Anakin succeeded, years of recovery...

_No._

_No more._

“I'm sorry, Anakin.”  
“Don't be sorry.  _Live_ !”

“I'm more interested in turning my captivity into the worst mistake the Yuuzhan Vong have ever made.”

Anakin took an aggressive step closer. “Don't you  _dare_ do this to me, Obi-Wan. I've loved you like a  _father._ I've looked up to you, I've  _trusted_ you, I've been out there for months  _looking_ for you. Do you have any idea how long it took me to  _find_ you?”

So many  _I's_ ...

Words were not going to help. Anything he said would inflame Anakin further.

The only thing he could say to diffuse the situation would be,  _You're right, I'm wrong, do what you will and of course I will endure any and all hell so you can be spared the pain of losing me. Never mind what's best for me. Never mind what I need._

_You must be spared._

Obi-Wan's heart throbbed a little in response.

He knew what it was like to lose a Master. To stand by helpless as he died in pain. He  _didn't_ want to inflict that on Anakin.

“Anakin, whether I die or not isn't the question. It's coming. Months from now, years of agony later, perhaps, but that bell has tolled. My body will not  _function_ without the creatures. And with them, I last only as long as they dictate. Anakin, most people aren't allowed to  _choose_ how they go. It just happens. If they're lucky, they can direct it a little. Make as big a splash as the circumstances allow.

“I have a shot at making my exit catastrophic for the enemy. It's not guaranteed, no, but it's a  _chance._ A chance to deal them a blow they can't recover from.

“Of course I crave that.”

“Living to fight another day is better.”

“There comes a moment when it isn't. When dying isn't the _enemy_ , anymore, Anakin. When death becomes a symbiont... or maybe even a friend.”  
“You're _wrong,_ ” Anakin snarled. “You're _giving up._ _Alive_ you can do so much _more_ against the Yuuzhan Vong than—”  
Obi-Wan let his eyelids sag shut again.

_Satine... why couldn't he have had a warrior's spirit?_

“Anakin, for me, going down fighting is far preferable to going down running away.”  
“But if you  _run_ , you might not have to  _go down_ at  _all._ ”

“I'm comfortable with that, Anakin.”

“You  _know_ there's a possibility—”  
“I know that you would have me run to the very last possible moment, and that you'd _still_ be whispering lies in my ear at that point. That you will not let me  _rest_ and  _savor_ the last few clear moments I have. That in your desperation to gain  _more_ , what we have  _now_ will be lost. And that if I don't fall in line and follow your plan for my life, our relationship will suffer. Ever since you became my responsibility, I have tried to take the brunt of the blows that come your way. Some I couldn't, but I  _tried._ I made it my  _business_ to take suffering away from you. So it wouldn't touch you more than it had to. Take its brunt myself. Here, at the end, you demand I do the same. You want to force me to suffer so you don't have to.”  
“You think I'm  _not_ suffering, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, a terrible viciousness in his voice. “You think it doesn't  _kill_ me to see you this way? You know how I deal with it? Thinking of the  _future._ Preparing for it.  _Fighting_ for it. I'm not  _running away._ I'm  _fighting._ For  _you._ And you're not pulling your weight. You're working  _against_ me.”

“Anakin, I don't begrudge my life having been about you. It was my choice. I don't regret it. But please, let my death be my own. Don't make it be about you. Please don't steal it away from me.”

His friend's eyes lit with a self-righteous fervor. “Everyone praises you as being so selfless. So others-focused. That you put others before yourself to a  _fault_ . I wish they could see you like this.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Yes, Anakin. My life belonged to all of you, but I want my death to be my own. Sue me.”

“Suicide is  _not_ the Jedi way.”

“Neither is clinging to life with greedy fingers.”

“You just want to escape the pain!”

“ _Yes_ !” Obi-Wan exploded. “ _Yes_ !”

He couldn't prevent the tears.

Again the symbiont tentacles reached up to lick away the moisture.

Anakin's holo recoiled.

And then Obi-Wan saw nothing.

“You don't want to save me for me,” Obi-Wan said brazenly as the creature fed the tears off his eyes. “You want to save me for you. And you don't care what I have to say about it, what I feel about it. As long as you don't have to suffer loss, that's all that matters, and the more completely I comply, the more loving you will be. The more I resist, the harsher you will become. Behavior training at its simplest. I bow to your wishes because I do not wish to hurt you, because it hurts me when you are angry with me. It hurts me to see you hurt. And so I lose myself.”

“You're all I've  _got._ You have a responsibility to me—”

“I hope Ahsoka isn't close enough to hear you so casually throw her away.”

“Ahsoka needs you too.”

“Ahsoka isn't the one trying to break me to her will.”

Anakin scrubbed a hand over his face. “ _Damn it,_ Obi-Wan! I'm not going to allow this.”

That was going to be a problem.

If Anakin decided to sabotage this...

Obi-Wan felt his chance slipping away from him. He glowered at the holographic face of his former Padawan. “Don't you  _dare_ take this away from me.”  
“ _You're_ one to talk.”

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan felt like his soul had been ripped in two and set on fire.

He'd done it.

He'd let loose on Anakin.

The younger Jedi had been driven to the point of storming away...

And Obi-Wan had given orders for the scientists that they reported to Thrawn now. That Thrawn had final say on all procedures.

Not Anakin.

Not anymore.

They'd been indifferent to the boss change. Simply agreed to it without any questions asked.

And then he'd requested Satine.

She tried to help him find a little peace.

It was hiding.

“Do you want to wait a little while, to see if he comes back, to say goodbye?”

Obi-Wan thought of their vicious argument. The cruel things he'd said to his Padawan. The agonized tears in Anakin's eyes as he cursed him and turned his back on him.

“He won't be forgiving me,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Not any time soon.”

“I'm sorry.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I've never intentionally hurt him like that before. It... hurts.”  
“I hear you, darling.”

“If I wait... how  _long_ do I wait? How long do I put it off? I want to be done, Satine. I just want it to be  _done._ I've made my decision. I've prepared. Why not get it over with?”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “Would you like to say goodbye to Bail or Ahsoka?”

“Record it. I don't want to interact anymore.”

So they did.

He left a small note for Bail, thanking him for his friendship.

And another for Ahsoka, letting her know how his last conversation with Anakin had gone.

“My gut says I should apologize to you, but I'm not going to. I'm not sorry I've made this choice. This is where I make my stand. I'm proud of you, and I'm proud of Anakin. I—” he hesitated, gaze seeking out Satine's.

So encouraging. Yes. Urging.

“I love both of you.”

Satine beamed through her tears.

Strange, how non-Jedi felt that word was so important to use. Ah, well. It wouldn't hurt to indulge them this once. It's not like it's the  _first_ time he's used it.

“I don't know if he will ever forgive me. But, in case he ever talks to you about it... I'd like somebody to know I forgive him. I understand why he couldn't stand by me. Goodbye, Ahsoka.”

Satine took charge of the holos.

She pressed her fingers to his face in benediction...

Whispered words of love, pride, encouragement, approval...

_Placed the saber in his hands and sent him off._

 

* * *

 

Satine stood in the balcony.

Ahsoka had followed after Anakin, and Satine had sent Korkie out.

It was just the Duchess.

Thrawn permitted the scientists to continue their monitoring... but without audio.

The balcony was denied it as well.

From here, the process looked peaceful.

Obi-Wan lay motionless, and his expressions weren't visible from here. There was no holo to fill in the blanks either.

Thrawn didn't lose track of his grace for a moment.

Satine leaned against the window and allowed the tears to stream down her face.

It wasn't easy to send a warrior off to make the stand by himself.

Now if it had been  _both_ of them, if they'd been heading out to face death  _together_ ?

That would have resulted in an almost total lack of suffering for Satine.

Dying back-to-back would have been perfect.

As it was...

At least he had his chance at dealing a blow.

_I will just have to find my own place._

In this war it shouldn't be too hard.

Maybe Thrawn would find enough to kick the Yuuzhan Vong out.

Maybe he wouldn't.

Either way, she foresaw years of bloody struggle ahead.

_Oh, there will be a place for me._

_Somewhere._

_Fight well, love._

She heaped the blessings of her people on his head as she watched his final moments as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

_Well done, warrior. Take your glory._

And then, in accordance with his request, she turned and walked away without a single glance back.

Korkie couldn't believe her gentle statement that they were leaving.

Some day she would try to explain to him.

Not today.

A warrior's dying wish was sacred.

Satine would never,  _never_ deny a dying warrior his final moments.

Not for a terrorist on her home planet...

And certainly not for the warrior of her heart.

 

* * *

 

“Are you ready to begin?” Thrawn asked, his voice calm.

Obi-Wan drew in another painful breath.

Yes.

_Hell_ yes.

“What is pain, Yuuzhan Vong?”

Obi-Wan considered, remembered words offered what seemed like a lifetime ago. Words he'd rejected.

He reached for them now.

“Yun Yuuzhan created all, tearing it from his body in pain. Pain is his gift to us, that we may join with him.”

“And death?”

“Death returns us to Yun Yuuzhan.”

“And life?”

“Life is the gift of the gods. Life is suffering. Life exists only to bring glory to the gods. I—  _Thrawn_ —”

“Yes?”

“I  _see_ it. A world without a sky— land, meeting over my head— a—  _ship._ A world-ship.  _Colonies_ of us— no,  _them_ — drifting through space for so  _long_ — Thrawn, it's a  _memory._ A false  _memory_ !”

“Just waiting for you to embrace the gods who gave you life.”

“I— it's sucking me in. I won't— I can't—”

“It will lead you if you let it. Take a deep breath, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan froze his alarm, considered it for a moment.

_This is a good thing. It means I won't fail miserably in this attempt. This is what we're fighting for._

For a few long moments he simply breathed, accepting the fear and readying his mind.

And then Obi-Wan met Thrawn's calm red gaze one more time.

The last thing he would see as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

And then he stopped fighting it.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Anakin was already in his fighter by the time Ahsoka caught up. She grabbed the edge of the cockpit, refusing to let it seal. The safety-mechanism kicked in, and it began to open again.

“Let me _go,_ Ahsoka,” Anakin snarled.

She kept her hands in the same place, canceling out his renewed command to the ship's brain. “What are you  _doing_ ?”

“I'm  _leaving._ I'm not wanted here.”  
Ahsoka saw the traces of tears on his face, though he'd dashed the offending drops away.

“What happened in there?” she asked, in a much quieter tone.

Anakin's eyes darkened in a way Ahsoka recognized. From Kiros... from Rako Hardeen...

From Mortis.

There was a menace, deep in her Master, and it's one of the reasons she left the Order.

The biggest reason.

She hadn't been able to  _tell_ him that, of course.

But she'd never been able to get the words of her older self out of her mind.

_“You will never see your future if you remain his student._ Leave  _this planet!”_

Mortis had also shown her that it was possible...  _very_ possible...

For darkness to overcome even beautiful light.

In Anakin.

In herself.

_“Seeds of the dark side planted in you by your Master.”_

Ahsoka had railed against the statement at the time. But as the months passed...

She'd  _seen_ it. The monster in him.

The way it called to her.

Though Barriss' betrayal hurt, she was  _grateful_ for the short-term schism that had happened between herself and the Council. It gave her an out.

Gave her a graceful way to leave.

She couldn't imagine trying to explain to Obi-Wan why she had to escape Anakin.

This way... they all thought it was the  _Order_ she couldn't live with.

Reality was much, much darker.

She couldn't live with  _Anakin Skywalker._

_And here I am, by his side again._

She knew how that had happened, knew that when he came to her, begging for her help in finding Obi-Wan, she couldn't just say  _no_ .

Obi-Wan had only ever tried to help her, and he needed her. Needed  _them._

Needed the Team.

_Many of the best lessons I learned, he gave me._

She would make those choices again, if offered.

She  _knew_ why she stood here.

But everything inside her pushed back against it.

This wasn't right. It wasn't good.

She needed  _distance_ from this man.

And now she was fighting with him, trying to convince him to  _stay._

_Force, what am I doing?_

“He needs you, Anakin. You can't just run off. Not after trying to  _find_ him for so long — ”

“He doesn't  _want_ me! He wants to try to turn himself  _into one of them_ !” Anakin snarled, dragging his mechanical hand through his hair. “How could he  _do_ that to me?”

“Wait,  _what_ ?”

“ _Yeah._ He wants to be a fripping  _martyr._ Go ask him. Make  _him_ tell you.”  
Ahsoka couldn't quite believe it when she found herself sailing through the air to land on her backside a couple meters away. By the time she was on her feet again, Anakin's ship was speeding for the heavens.

_He..._ Force-threw  _me. He actually_ Force-threw  _me!_

Ahsoka glared after him.

As she headed back for the temple, she saw the Duchess and Korkie board _their_ ship to leave.

Panic flooded Ahsoka's heart.  _He's dead. She wouldn't leave unless he was dead. Right?_

She raced inside, only to be met by a message from Obi-Wan.

Requesting she leave as well.

For long moments she stood there, looking at the stairs leading to the observation area.

_Can I really leave him?_

No-one who cared about Obi-Wan Kenobi remained.

Not even his enemies. They all had more important things to do elsewhere.

_It's me, and it's Thrawn. And all those scientists._

Ahsoka knew that if Bail could justify it with his conscience, he would be here right now. She saw that Obi-Wan had left a message for him too.

_He doesn't want me watching. Fine. I'll honor that._

But that's as far as it was going to go.

Ahsoka would remain  _here_ . And if, when Thrawn was done, there was anything to salvage...

_I'm not just letting them throw him away._

She sat on the floor with her back to the cold stone of the wall and listened to the eerie silence. Just a few hours on this sterile planet had left her montrals ringing, and she wasn't sure she'd get rid of that creeping resonance even after she escaped this place.

Hours slipped by.

Once, she almost forced her way in to try to put a stop to all of this...

And then took a deep breath.

_It's his life. His body._

_He made his choice. He clearly thought about it... a_ lot.

Somehow Satine had come to terms with it. Anakin hadn't.

_Should I go in there and fight Thrawn off?_

She didn't know what was right anymore.

That had always been her compass. She did her best as a Jedi because it was right. She left Anakin because it was right. She joined Anakin on this morbid quest because it was right.

_And now I don't know what the frip to do._

She longed for Plo. To hear that low, calm voice give his opinion.

_How would he see it? Or Yoda? Even Master Windu? Somebody,_ anybody,  _who isn't right in the middle of this mire and can maybe see a way around or through?_

The seconds ticked by, scratching away at her soul.

_Maybe instead of sitting here I should be chasing after Anakin. Try to slow him down, talk some sense into him._

But what if something happened, and Obi-Wan needed her? What if things didn't work out the way he planned?

_Anakin will find his way. He'll figure it out._

_Obi-Wan needs me more._

 

* * *

 

It took a month.

But Anakin  _did_ pull out of his tailspin.

He'd been alternating between getting drunk in the dingiest bars he could locate and taking his starfighter out to slaughter as many Yuuzhan Vong as he could manage.

He was used to battle droids. Creatures he could kill by the dozen without really thinking about it.

This required all his attention, and skirted the edge of obliteration.

It gave him a chance to breathe.

But eventually he pulled up. Decided to stop running.

He shaved off the scruff, washed his clothes, ate a real meal...

And retraced the path of his flight.

He had no idea what he might find. Maybe Obi-Wan had completed his insane quest and had been put down by now.

Maybe it hadn't worked, and he'd been suffering alone all this time.

Maybe he was still Vong, and would look at Anakin and not recognize him.

Whatever the answer...

He had to know. He couldn't run anymore.

He entered the palace, noting that most of the bustle had dropped away.

He found a small camp spread out on the floor. A fireplace of stones, a small tent...

Ahsoka sat cross-legged, palms resting lightly on her knees, eyes closed.

Hers was the only friendly signature Anakin could sense.

_Did everyone leave him?_ he wondered, a pang shooting through his heart. He tried to drive it out with anger towards Obi-Wan, but Ahsoka's eyes, when they opened, distracted him.

Blue as ever, but...

_So_ much older.

_Infinitely_ old.

Anakin rechecked dates, suddenly worried he'd lost track of time, but no.

“Anakin.”

He stood above her, wondering  _what_ he could say. He finally settled on, “What's happened?”

Ahsoka stood.

And again — there was a quiet, weary grace to her movements that should have been acquired a couple decades from now —

“Thrawn is completing his strategy now. It's quite good, Anakin. I only understand a tenth of it, but he's bothered to explain it to me, every step of the way.”

There was a quiet respect for the man that put Anakin on edge. Thrawn had been teaching  _his_ Padawan?

No. He was  _not_ okay with that.

“Some of it is already being brought into play.”  
Anakin huffed. “Then why isn't the war going better? We're still  _losing._ ”

What was that in her eyes? Why was she looking at him with  _pity_ ?

“Anakin... Thrawn is a different kind of warrior. It's been a long time since I felt we had hope against the Yuuzhan Vong. Now? I think we stand a chance. A good chance.”  
“Why are you still  _here_ ?”

“At first it was to protect Obi-Wan.” Ahsoka shook her head. “Now I'm here for Thrawn.”

“So he can twist you into his own warped image?” Anakin growled. “He doesn't act  _quickly_ enough to  _accomplish_ anything — ”

“He knew you were coming back. And he knew  _when.._ . within three days. You hit right in the middle.”

Anakin felt his blood freeze. “He has spies.”  
“He told me the day after you left.” Ahsoka gave him a gentle smile. “Anakin... we've been fighting this war your way. Reactionary. But Obi-Wan was right. We needed something different. Something Thrawn specializes in.”  
“I don't get this hero-worship thing you've got going.” Anakin ran a hand through his longish hair. “He's a _creep,_ and he's got no moral code—”

Ahsoka quirked a white brow marking at him. “And you know this because you've spent so much time listening to what he has to say and trying to understand the way he sees the universe.”  
“I—”

“He's not our enemy, Anakin. He never was.”

“He's  _Imperial_ —”  
“For  _now._ Because that puts the pieces in the best possible place.” Ahsoka shook her head. “We were all looking at things from a short-term perspective. Obi-Wan called it. We needed something more.”

“I can't believe you think this was a good idea.” Anakin felt his anger building again.

Ahsoka shrugged. “I know my limits. I can't convince you to believe. But I believe in Thrawn. I also believe there is no-one else in the Alliance's leadership who  _can_ throw the Yuuzhan Vong out of our galaxy. Including you, and Obi-Wan, the way he was before.”  
“The Vong are just—”

“Yuuzhan Vong.”

Anakin squinted at her. “What?”

“To use the word  _Vong_ without  _Yuuzhan_ is to suggest the beings so described have been forsaken by gods and family.”

Disgust flooded his voice. “Who the frip  _cares_ ?”  
“Thrawn does. And that's why we're going to win.  _Anakin,_ the reasons  _why_ an opponent fights are just as important as  _how_ they fight. And knowing  _why_ they fight the  _way_ they do means you can maneuver pieces into place for a victory, where  _they_ help  _you_ win.”

“I don't think—”

Ahsoka cut off his condescending tone with narrowed eyes. “Their hatred of mechanical technology stems from a war with droids deep in their past. They've been living in ships for thousands of years because their homeplanet was too destroyed to redeem. They've been searching for a promised land for that long, seeking out a place large enough for them to recover and thrive.”

“That's all well and good, but in the end, that won't  _matter,_ once we figure out what  _weaponry_ will—”

“Anakin, they have nowhere to  _go._ ” Ahsoka held out her arms for emphasis. “Even if we  _found_ weapons to work. Even if we pushed them back beyond the edge of our galaxy. They would  _keep coming back._ Have you ever cornered a wild animal before? Cornering makes it  _more_ dangerous, not less, because running  _isn't_ an option. The worldships are failing, Anakin. They can't just set out to find  _another_ galaxy. They've run out of  _time._ ”

“They can't just take ours — ”

“And if you want them to _stop_ fighting for their families, you're going to have to slaughter them down to the last child.”  
Now it was Anakin's eyes narrowing. “Not seeing where the problem is.”  
Ahsoka watched him for a long, silent moment, her expression so unreadable.

_She's even picking up_ expressions  _from him,_ Anakin inwardly growled.

“Isn't that interesting. That genocide doesn't bother you, but Thrawn has been working tirelessly to find a way to  _not_ wipe an entire species from existence. It almost looks like his moral code is stronger than yours.” 

Anakin glared at her. “He's  _lying,_ Ahsoka. He's a liar. You can't trust a word he says—”

“Anakin, the Yuuzhan Vong are not  _united._ ”

“Haven't seen any sign of that.” Anakin crossed his arms, feeling like he didn't even  _know_ Ahsoka anymore. How had that happened?  _She's_ mine  _to mold, and Thrawn stole her._

He really  _should_ kill that guy...

“You want to know why they are unwilling to share this galaxy? There's certainly room enough. They have the know-how to terraform sterile planets we have no use for. The reasons are religious. Yun Yuuzhan promised them a new life, a new land...  _if_ they cleared it of all abominations. They can't stop fighting us until we are wiped out, Anakin, or bend the knee.”

“And you're saying we  _shouldn't_ get rid of them all? They're crazy.”

“There are those among them who don't like the restrictions their religion puts on them. They want to expand their knowledge beyond what is allowed. They want to live without the threat of the Priest Caste hanging over them. There are those who see corruption in the system and want to find something better. Anakin, Thrawn is developing a way to use  _them_ to topple the system and create a new one, one that can live in peace with the rest of us.”

Anakin stared at her. “You're not serious.”

“ _Yes,_ I  _am._ But you only see an Imperial.”

He tried to make sense of her tone and expression. He couldn't find any hint of judgment there... a little... disappointment, perhaps? No.  _Resignation._   
Well  _that_ wasn't at all insulting.

“I want to see Obi-Wan.” Anakin settled in for a fight.

Ahsoka gave him a nod. “Alright.”

He struggled not to show the surprise he felt. “Let's go.”  
Ahsoka led him not to the observation balcony, but through a warren of hallways.

“They...  _moved_ him? After all of that?”

“He's not in the same condition as when you left.”

“Clearly. He's a fripping _Yuuzhan_ Vong.”

Ahsoka didn't respond to the passive aggression. “I will not go in with you. He hasn't seen me or spoken with me; we're going to keep it that way for now.”  
“You're just letting Thrawn make decisions like that?”

“His reasoning was sound.”

“Sure,” Anakin muttered. “He's playing you, Ahsoka.”  
“Yes. He is.”  
Anakin froze, staring after her. When she didn't pause, he had to jog to catch up with her again. “You _see_ it?”

“Anakin, it's how his mind works. He's a consummate strategist. He's already fifty steps ahead of you. I also know that he is far,  _far_ smarter than I will ever be, so trying to out-think him would be the height of ridiculousness, and it would  _purely_ be to try to salve my ego. I know his motivation, and I know what lengths he will go to in order to reach it. I also know that whether I assist or  _resist_ , he's figured out  _ahead_ of time, long before the question even crossed my mind, how to use  _either one_ for his purposes. He's 'manipulating' all of us, Anakin. He can't help it.”

“If half of what you just said is true, he's even more dangerous than Pal— _Sidious_.” Anakin lowered his voice to ensure Ahsoka alone could hear him.

Ahsoka sent him a feral smile. “The Emperor's days are numbered.”

“So Thrawn gets rid of him. Then what? A worse,  _smarter_ Emperor?”

“Who said Thrawn wants to get rid of him? Right now, keeping him where he is is useful. Until that changes, Palpatine stays where he is, and continues to think he's in charge.”

Anakin scoffed. “Right. Because Thrawn has that much power. I'll believe it when I see it.”

Ahsoka paused, gesturing to a doorway. “This is where I stop.”

“Thanks.”

“And Anakin?”

Anakin paused with his hand on the door and looked back at her. The change in her voice, the grieved gravity...

It sent fear through him.

“I'll be right here, when you come out.”

That was... that was...

What  _was_ that?

Anakin turned away and let himself in.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka had nearly given in.

Nearly warned him.

It was hard, so hard...

_But Thrawn's right._

If Ahsoka had told Anakin that Obi-Wan... wasn't Obi-Wan anymore, Anakin would walk in there determined to prove her and the universe wrong. It wouldn't matter what she said or how much of it she tried, Anakin Skywalker would not believe her.

More: he would  _bend_ fate to his will.

_Sometimes fate won't be bent._

It felt cruel, to let him walk in there with no idea what he was about to face.

_But his conclusions will be his own. Not predicated on resisting me._

But he was going to need help once he passed through to the other side.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Anakin found himself in a room cut in half by a transparent wall.

And on the other side of that wall...

“ _Frip_!”

Blue orbs looked him straight in the eye. “Anakin! You finally decided to visit. Did you bring Ahsoka with you?”

“Ahsoka never left.” Anakin tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

Obi-Wan laughed.

The sound felt like fingernails dragged against transparisteel to Anakin's ears.

“Clever girl,” his Master purred.

Anakin couldn't look into those eyes.

Instead, he started with the feet.

Planted on the  _ground._

Shoeless, the toes swollen and deformed, shards of coral lining the joints of them like lethal decorations.

Spines jutted out from the backs of the heels. As long as the hilt of Anakin's lightsaber, and sharp as spears.

The color and consistency looked horribly familiar to Anakin. He wasn't entirely sure they hadn't pried off sections of Obi-Wan's leg bones to graft.

The flesh of his shins and calves was horribly twisted and lined.

His knees...

Anakin could see the bones of the right knee. Thin film covered the ligaments, allowing it a range of motion.

And there Anakin tried to stop.

Because the chest was still torn open, still a living display case. His left hand... was  _gone..._ replaced with... some claw-like creature—

Coral and bone jutted out from various joints and limbs didn't lie straight. They'd set wrong back during the original breaks.

The only reassuring thing about him was the light fuzz of auburn over the top of his scarred head.

And the least reassuring thing...

The fact he was  _standing._

And—

Now prowling towards the barrier.

“What do you think?” Obi-Wan asked, tone horrifically light.

Anakin shook his head. “You're walking.”

“How observant of you.”  
“And I'm— this close, so... are they sensing me?”

“Oh, we know you're there,” Obi-Wan assured him, gaze watching Anakin's every breath.

It scared him.

Badly.

“Did Thrawn send you to kill me?”

“What? No, Obi-Wan, I came to see how you're doing.”  
Obi-Wan laughed again.

Anakin hated it.

“How  _am_ I doing?”  
Anakin stretched out with the Force, but there was nothing. No light, no dark, not even a significant void. Just... a slippery lack of anything substantial.

“Force, Obi-Wan, I'm sorry. I should have fought harder for you. I shouldn't have allowed this—”

Obi-Wan arched an eyeridge at him. “Oh? Isn't that interesting. I stopped fighting the grafts, submitted to the gods, began to  _heal,_ and you're sorry.”

“It's me,” Anakin scoffed. “You don't have to fake that banthakark with me. Thrawn's not here. We can have a real conversation. What the  _frip_ happened to you?”

Obi-Wan lounged away from the window. “What happened? The blinders were taken from my eyes. The  gods have given me a gift. Though not their child by birth, they have taken me as their own. The rush of it, Anakin. Long I fought the Embrace of Pain. I scorned their kindness. Not anymore.”  
“So there's surveillance devices. Great. Ahsoka says they've got what they need. You can come back now.”

“These walls cannot cage me forever,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Nor can they hope to thwart the will of the gods. It was set before time; it will come to pass. Come with me, Anakin.”  
Anakin took a step forward, trying to see  _anything_ of Obi-Wan's expression.

He couldn't.

“What?”  
“Creche brother, come  _with_ me into the glorious light of the gods. Let me show you what they've given me.”

Suddenly, Obi-Wan's face was a mere seven centimeters from his own.

Anakin startled backwards, horrified by the manic gleam in the depths of those eyes—

“What the  _hell,_ Obi-Wan?”

“We'll have to be rid of that vile  _thing_ that pollutes your flesh. We'll replace it with something  _alive._ Something that becomes  _part_ of you.” Obi-Wan reached his own false hand towards Anakin's.

Anakin stumbled another step away. “No,  _thanks._ ”

“You are afraid.” Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side.

He couldn't  _look_ at him. This — this had to be some kind of sick  _ joke _ —

Obi-Wan's voice turned predatory. “You're afraid of me _. _ ”

“No, I'm—”

Something came flying towards his face. Anakin shied away as a loud  _ crack  _ hurt his ears. He stared back at Obi-Wan in shock.

His Master's palm had split where he had struck the clear wall. Blood slid down the smooth surface, but Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice. “You're weak.” Disgust laced Obi-Wan's voice, his eyes. “You're  _ afraid. _ ”

“No, I'm  _ not, _ ” Anakin yelped, feeling like a nine-year-old again.

“I thought you were worthy to stand by my side; but you are  _ nothing. _ You'll never be  _ good  _ enough for anything!”

Obi-Wan was screaming at him.

He'd  _ never  _ screamed at him before.  _ Ever.  _ No matter how far Anakin had pushed him. No matter how badly Anakin had hurt him.

“No  _ wonder  _ Ahsoka left you! She must have caught a glimpse of what you really are!”

Anakin felt the world closing in around him, felt his shoulders shuddering, felt his eyes misting. Fury struggled to assert itself, to grant him dignity, but it failed—

Another bone-rattling strike against the wall. The split tore wider.

Anakin cringed, his feet chained to the floor, though he desperately wanted to  _ run— _

“My blood disgusts you.” Obi-Wan took the sharp spine on his right elbow and jabbed it into his thigh. Blood welled around the wound.

Anakin cringed and held out his hand, a silent plea to  _ stop. _

“Seeing me in pain disgusts you. You want to deprive me of it,” Obi-Wan hissed, fury in his voice.

Next thing he knew, he heard  _ bone  _ snapping.

Anakin whimpered, struggling not to  _ look  _ at the bone shards piercing the skin of Obi-Wan's still-human arm. How could he  _ do  _ that to himself—

“You would make me as weak as yourself! You  _ hate  _ pain. You try to  _ avoid  _ it!”

Obi-Wan traced his claws down the broken bone, shivering against the touch.

Anakin turned his head, unable to endure it.

“You are  _ pathetic. _ Unworthy.”

For a long moment there was silence, as Anakin struggled to find  _ something  _ to say.  _ Anything— _

Movement out of the corner of his eye.

He looked up again. It was instinctive.

Dazed, he watched Obi-Wan track his finger through the blood on the window, smearing it.

It took him a while to realize his Master was forming letters.

Took longer for his brain to make sense of their meaning.

_ S _

_L_

_A_

_V_

With a wounded cry, Anakin fled before Obi-Wan could finish.

“ _ Run _ ,” Obi-Wan hissed, his voice inhuman. “Run little one. Flee as far as you can. I'll find you. I'll always find you.”

 

* * *

 

Thrawn watched the live-feed from the hidden cams.

Noted that when Anakin bolted, Obi-Wan didn't bother to complete the blood-scrawled word.

Noted a million other microscopic things.

Information streamed through his mind, making connections, discovering the beginnings and ends of chains based off the one link handed him.

It had always been this way.

Both a gift and a curse.

He would like to  _ hope. _

Hope was such a... strong thing. It could buoy people up through all kinds of hardships. He'd seen it, many, many times.

In other people.

He would like to experience hope that his heart still lived.

But he knew better. There were too many  _ little _ things. 

Things another person,  _ most  _ other people wouldn't have seen.

Things he couldn't help  _ but  _ see.

Death made the most sense of the variables that had been present at the time.

And...

He hadn't been able to follow up.

The Yuuzhan Vong had been too close. He'd needed to set up his position with Palpatine while it was still a Republic.

Too much was at stake.

Once again he turned away from the desire to leave here  _ right now— _

The path you took to reach a place was just as important at the destination.

And oftentimes, it changed the outcomes of those destinations.

A big fork in the road was coming up.

Soon, now, Anakin Skywalker would reach a point where he had to decide whether to kill Thrawn or not.

And the Chiss may as well walk to meet it, instead of wait for the Jedi to hunt him down.

Ahsoka met him in the hall. “I don't know if it's safe to follow him. He's not listening to me; I'm not sure he heard me. I  _ am  _ sure he's going to notice you. And he's probably going to blame you.”

“He definitely will.”

“He might try to kill you.”

“He might succeed.”

Ahsoka sucked in a deep breath. “I can't allow that.”  
“You know the plan does not hinge on my being present to watch.”  
“I know  _ you  _ think you're expendable. And you know I think you aren't.”

Thrawn tilted his head. “Do you trust me, Ahsoka?”

“You're unarmed. He's a Jedi. With an anger problem. Who's had everything taken away from him. It doesn't matter if I trust you or not; you're no match for him.”

He smiled, wearily. “Then celebrate the fact the plan does not include me fighting your former Master.”

Though it was amusing that she assumed he needed a weapon.

She probably wouldn't believe that he'd thrived when his people had marooned him on a hostile, empty planet either.

 

* * *

 

Anakin raced up the now-unused stairs to the observation room, sending dust billowing into the air.

Laughter chased him.

Obi-Wan's laughter.

_ He's going to kill me. _

Anakin dropped once he found a solid corner he could put his back to. He clutched his saber close to his chest, struggling to breathe as terror and heartbreak struggled for supremacy.

He couldn't imagine what that tongue might have done to Ahsoka.

Now he was  _ glad  _ she'd listened to Thrawn and stayed away.

_ “Clever girl,”  _ the thing that  _ looked  _ like Obi-Wan had sneered.

_ He's going to kill  _ Ahsoka.

Tears ran down his cheeks as he tried to  _ understand. _

His Master was so full of light that it had filled Anakin with shame to stand beside him and know his shadows made it difficult for the universe to see  _ just how brightly  _ Obi-Wan glowed.

His Master. Who would rather die than do something wrong.

Who had been selfless to a point that Anakin couldn't even understand.

And that... that...  _ creature  _ down there, that had stolen his face, his voice—

It was worse than death. Anakin had never thought that  _ possible. _

Death was  _ the  _ enemy. The great destroyer.

But he almost thought—

That if Obi-Wan had retained his light... and lay dead...

_ No. How can you  _ think  _ such a thing?  _ he screamed at himself.  _ You didn't give up on Ahsoka, when she went dark on Mortis. _

He'd betrayed Obi-Wan with his thought.

But... but  _ how  _ had he become  _ this _ ? His  _ Master _ ?

Thrawn.

_ Thrawn  _ had convinced Obi-Wan to try this.

Thrawn had somehow destroyed Obi-Wan. His Master couldn't have done this, become this. Not on his own.

_ And we abandoned Obi-Wan to that monster. _

No more.

Anakin lunged up, his grip adjusting on his saber, his eyes a blue fire—

A quiet step in the doorway—

Anakin froze, a snarl on his face. “ _ Thrawn. _ ”

“General Skywalker.” The Chiss watched him with calm, crimson eyes. “On your way to kill me.”

“Give me a good reason I  _ shouldn't. _ ”

“None of the reasons I have to offer would quench your anger.” Thrawn moved to the window, looking out at the empty room.

His back to Anakin.

His  _ back. _

“What have you done to Obi-Wan, and what the  _ hell  _ are you doing with Ahsoka?”

“Your Master made his own choice. Do you really think I could have forced such a change upon him? A man of his nature? Did he not resist the metamorphosis for months  _ alone _ ?”

He couldn't... really...

He thought of all the times someone had tried to bend Obi-Wan to their will.

Of the rebellious, determined glitter in Obi-Wan's eyes.

Of his own final confrontation with his Master. The way Obi-Wan had refused to let him badger him, broken and weakened though he might be, to Anakin's own plan.

Thrawn had a point.

“And Ahsoka?” he growled, not wanting to just give up without a fight, and still not sure he  _ wasn't  _ going to kill this flesh-and-blood droid.

“Do you doubt your former Padawan's judgment so much? She watched Obi-Wan become what you encountered. Do you think she would be working with me now, if she thought I had betrayed him somehow? If she felt even a hint of foul play?”

“She said you're manipulating us.”

“She is perceptive.”

“You seem strangely confident, given the fact that you  _ don't  _ know I won't kill you.”

Thrawn slowly turned to face him. “You overestimate my importance. My death would not stop the plan for peace from continuing. No-one is irreplaceable. There are contingencies in place.”

“So you're saying you don't  _ care  _ if I kill you?” Anakin fingered the ignition switch—

“I'm saying I would not be unwilling to give myself up, if that is what the path to peace required.”

“Says a  _ career  _ military man.”

“Says a man who has prepared for the Yuuzhan Vong invasion since you were a child.”

Anakin froze. “You  _ knew  _ they were coming?”  
“My people were closer to them than yours. It took longer for you to feel the effects of their arrival. And because my people do not believe in preemptive action...”

“Bet they  _ loved  _ you.”

Anakin was unprepared for the flicker of pain he felt in the Force. Thrawn's face was still clear, his posture still controlled. To a non-Force-sensitive, it would appear he was completely unmoved.

It reminded Anakin of Obi-Wan...

The flicker tore. Bled. Revealed an old wound that had never healed. “Eventually, my people cast me out.”

Anakin returned his saber to his belt, feeling slightly embarrassed. It felt like he was witnessing something in the Force he  _ shouldn't.  _ Like catching Thrawn with his pants down.

Anakin's face uncontrollably scrunched.

Force.  _ That  _ was an image.

“You wanted to protect them, and they wouldn't let you?”

“The Yuuzhan Vong hadn't aggressed against them yet. It didn't matter to them that they'd attacked every civilization they came across. That it was a matter of time. They would not prepare until they had been attacked.”

Anakin struggled against the part of him that wanted to sympathize. The part of him who felt that if the Jedi had been more aggressive, they wouldn't have  _ died. _

_ He and I have nothing in common. He's manipulating me. This is probably all a lie, carefully designed to mess with my head. _

“Whether you believe me or not is irrelevant,” Thrawn murmured, turning to the window once more.

Anakin found himself moving to stand beside him, so he could attempt to read the man from a new angle.

_ As if that's going to help. _

“What  _ is  _ relevant, then?”

“What you want to do with him now.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. “You're done?”  
“The information required has been obtained.”  
“I don't think... aren't you the one going to make that decision?” Anakin asked, confused. This wasn't how he'd envisioned this conversation going.

Thrawn shook his head, a slow, graceful movement. “He entrusted himself to my care only for the purpose of knowledge. That purpose has been fulfilled. He assumed death would be the next logical step... but he also didn't know he would walk again.”

“Did _you_ know it?” Anakin asked, his voice low, and just a little threatening.

“I suspected. It's why I prepared a cell that could hold him, just in case.”

Anakin frowned. “You would have had to have been working on that  _before_ you talked to Obi-Wan about the plan, in order to have it ready in time.”  
“True.”

Force. Ahsoka was right. This man _was_ terrifyingly prepared.  
“What would have happened if he'd _refused_ to betray himself?”  
Thrawn sent him a quiet glance. “Either he would give himself up for others, or he would succumb to your demands, give up what he felt to be right in order to keep himself from losing your good opinion and affection. He was going to betray himself one way or another.”

Anakin felt a twinge of guilt.

_I have nothing to feel guilty for. I was trying to save him from_ this.

He shuddered.

_I should have tried harder._

“What do you think the options are now?” he asked, hoping his voice didn't sound as hoarse as it felt.

Thrawn seemed to consider for a long moment. “His request for death still stands. However, you have to consider that his body has taken well to the changes. He looks unhealthy, but scans indicate he has healed remarkably fast. Now that he is no longer fighting his symbionts, they are taking very active care of him.”

Gorge rose in Anakin's throat.

“To kill him now would be... a very _large_ stretch of the concept of a mercy kill.”

Somehow, Anakin kept from throwing up all over Thrawn's impeccable boots.  _Though... why should I fight_ that _?_ was his morbid thought.

This was like something out of those bad dreams he'd get after drinking too much—

Only those never felt so  _real,_ so...

Viscous.

He tried to escape the creeping sensation of decay clawing at his nostrils, mouth, and throat. “What are my other options?”

“He could remain in prison until he either escapes or dies of old age.”

Anakin imagined him pacing for decades. Alone. A mockery of his former self...

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

“What does Ahsoka think?” Anakin somehow asked.

Hell.  _Hell._

How could he be expected to make a decision like this? It would be so much easier if Thrawn made the decision, and then Anakin could hate him for it, either way it went—

“She is holding her council.”

He couldn't put this on Ahsoka. He  _knew_ he couldn't.

It didn't mean that in the dark depths of his mind he didn't  _want_ to.

Ahsoka.

Something Ahsoka had  _said..._

 

* * *

 

Thrawn waited in silence, to see if the man beside him had a heart large enough for the third option.

Ahsoka had  _not_ kept quiet.

But though Thrawn had a very good measure of Anakin Skywalker as a man, there were still unknowns.

Differing paths possible.

Seven very general outlines, at the moment. Six if you squinted.

This was a test.

And he  _wanted_ Anakin Skywalker to pass.

 

* * *

 

“Ahsoka said that you've found some of the Yuuzhan Vong who want... change. To be rid of their religion.”  
“Some, yes. Others simply want a milder form. One that does not express itself in so bloodthirsty a fashion.”

Anakin tried to read the quiet face.  _Still_ couldn't. “She said there's enough of them to succeed.”

“Lasting change only comes from within.”

“Can we... can he... could you manipulate him into becoming one of  _them_ ?”

Thrawn watched him with unreadable eyes. “What are you asking?”

“I don't want to kill him. And he's... a threat.” Anakin thought of the threat towards Ahsoka he'd sensed and felt a deep stab of fear. “But I can't just resign him to a life in prison.”

“What  _do_ you want?”

“If... the  _violence_ could be toned down... if he could be brought to be a more reasonable Yuuzhan Vong— maybe not  _without_ religion but someone who could be reasoned with... someone who could live in peace...”

“And what would happen then?”

“He could... walk out of here? Decide what he wanted to do?” Anakin scraped a hand down his face. “I don't even know if it's possible. Is it possible?”  
And  _now_ Anakin received a distinct impression that Thrawn knew the answer to that, and was withholding it.

“And what place would you have in his life?”

He had a headache. A really,  _really_ bad one—

“I don't know. I— I don't think I could live nearby. I can't— it has his voice, his face. Aren't I doing enough by not just signing it away as a monster?”  
Thrawn's head tilted again, just a little. Anakin found it terribly eerie. “Why are you saying these things? Is it to ease your own conscience, or out of deference to what your former Padawan will think?”

Anakin  _wanted_ to feel insulted by the fact Thrawn was questioning his motives, but he was too heartsick to manage.

“It should be what Obi-Wan wants, right? He wanted to die, because he was in terrible shape. But he's  _not_ anymore. And Obi-Wan was always very... strict on justice. This Yuuzhan Vong hasn't  _done_ anything deserving death or imprisonment. And if it could be... I don't know... rehabilitated?  _Something..._ ”

“You do not believe that a Yuuzhan Vong is deserving of death simply because it lives?”

Anakin grimaced. “I  _did._ But Ahsoka— Ahsoka seems to think— that's before  _Obi-Wan_ was one.”

“You see this Yuuzhan Vong as Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“How could I  _not_ ?”  _But I keep referring to him as_ it... “But it's not like we could get him back.”

Thrawn's expression didn't change.

Anakin's heart pulsed, a painful stretch that made it hard to breathe. “ _Could_ we?”  
“We could not drive out the Yuuzhan Vong. Their technology made physical changes to his body, to his mind. We cannot tear those from him without killing him. Neither harm him, and he  _chose_ them.”

“But we could get  _something_ back?” Anakin clenched his fists, trying to  _not_ get his hopes up, to  _not_ hope—

“Yes.”

Anakin found himself leaning against the wall, white blurring his vision. “ _Yes_ ?”

“How willing are you to share?”

Anakin tried to still the shaking in his hands and failed. “What do you mean?”

“The parts of his mind and body that are Yuuzhan Vong are just as much him as what you used to know. If we retrieve what is left of the old Obi-Wan Kenobi, it will coexist with the current Yuuzhan Vong. It will not replace it. Also, what's left of the human parts of his mind will be delicate. On-edge. Should you try to guilt or badger him into being  _less_ Yuuzhan Vong, the likelihood is you may break what's left of his mind. If we go this path, you will need to share, or you, and he, will lose everything.”

“Um—” Anakin fell silent, feeling helpless.

“You do not see yourself as speciest, but can you accept that your former Master  _is_ Yuuzhan Vong now? That the Yuuzhan Vong part of him is  _just as_ legitimate as what is human?”

Anakin hesitated.  _Not that long ago I told Ahsoka we could wipe them all out._

He thought of the Tuskens.

How slaughtering them hadn't made the loss of his mother easier. It had distracted him while he was  _doing_ it. But afterwards...

It hadn't lessened the pain.

And it had plagued him. Sleepless nights. Days of loathing himself.

He'd justified it by suggesting they were something  _less._ Something...  _beneath._

_“They're like animals.”_

He'd had similar thoughts about the Yuuzhan Vong.

He thought of Obi-Wan, intentionally harming himself just to make a  _point._

Could he set that aside? Could he... accept this?

_I don't know._

Could he afford  _not_ to?

This was  _Obi-Wan_ they were talking about.

_I wasn't there, when he needed me. Not when he was caught. Not for months after that._

_Not when he chose to walk this path._

_I'm done failing him._ Done.  _If_ this  _is what he needs from me..._

_It doesn't matter how_ hard  _it may be._

_I'm not failing him this time._

He raised his eyes to Thrawn's face again, and had the unnerving realization the Chiss knew what he'd decided.

And probably  _why._

 

* * *

 

“Duchess. Thank you for taking my call.”

“Why are you contacting me?” Satine asked, not caring that she sounded terse.

Thrawn watched her just as carefully as she eyed him.

Probably collecting just as much information about her as her own subconscious analyzed about him.

The Chiss inclined his head. “I will be brief.”

 

* * *

 

When Thrawn had said he was going to bring Satine in to work with Obi-Wan, this wasn't exactly what Anakin had envisioned.

She closeted herself with Thrawn, learning everything he could teach her about Yuuzhan Vong culture, religion, and language.

It shocked Anakin how quickly she was chattering away with Thrawn in a language Thrawn had somehow picked up from Obi-Wan.

He had an incredible ear. And an even scarier memory.

And recognized patterns as easily as Anakin breathed.

The current situation baffled Anakin. Satine hadn't even been in to _see_ Obi-Wan yet.

Ahsoka seemed to have more information than he did.

“Her people didn't want peace. She  _convinced_ them. And they couldn't be moved by arguments that would work on non-Mandalorians, because that logic isn't how their minds work. She had to use their  _own_ ideology to draw them to a new point of view. She used  _Mando'a_ to convince them to turn away from their ideological imperative for violence.”

“The Mandalorians don't have a religion.”

Ahsoka shrugged. “Technically no. But they had an ideology they followed as fanatically as any religious radical, and they disowned any child who wanted to move a different direction. In that sense, they were more religious than many current religions, which are fairly lenient when it comes to accepting other ways of looking at life.”

“She's going to debate with the Yuuzhan Vong?”

“No. She and Thrawn will run a long game on him. They're working on it now. If you want to sit in and listen, I'm fairly certain they would allow it.”  
“They're talking in... Yuuzhan Vong. Whatever it's called. I wouldn't understand a word of it.” Anakin sighed. “Shouldn't she be trying to appeal to Obi-Wan's emotions? What he feels for her?”

Ahsoka's eyes softened. “The way you called on his for you?”

“It's not the same.”

“What is Tatooine's culture like? Are humans expected to be sexual beings?”

Anakin's eyes widened and he looked away, his face heating up.

This was  _not_ a conversation he was comfortable having with his former Padawan.

And he wasn't at  _all_ clear on how it had  _anything_ to do with what they'd been discussing—

“I don't know— I  _guess_ — but that's  _normal_ —”  
“No. It's not. Many people, human and otherwise, are not sexually attracted to their fellow beings. And recognizing that, respecting it, allows children to be raised understanding there are many  _kinds_ of relationships. In a society that pretends all individuals experience sexual attraction,  _love_ is defined in certain ways. You have familial love, your  _lover,_ and then 'just friends,' as if a non-sexual, non-romantic, non-blood friendship is something  _less_ than the relationship you have with your  _lover._ And while that may be true for some people, it is  _not_ true for  _everyone._ ”

Anakin rubbed at his closed eyes, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him. “Your point?”

“I understand it's not how you were raised to see the world, but Obi-Wan valued his relationship with you  _just as much_ as he valued what he had with Satine. The fact that your relationship was not a romantic one didn't  _lessen_ that fact. You seem to think that Satine could draw out Obi-Wan in a way you  _couldn't_ , because you are  _just friends._ That isn't true.”

“Yes, but  _some_ relationships are meant to be extra special, Snips—”

Ahsoka laughed. “Oh,  _Force,_ Anakin. It's been years since you called me that. I've learned some things since then. 

“You were attracted to Padmé, and you can't imagine a life in which you  _weren't._ Other people can't imagine a world in which they  _are._ And still others have been raised in a culture that respects both experiences. A non-asexual person who is capable of  _also_ maintaining intense non-sexually-focused relationships. That's Obi-Wan.”

“So you're saying he's in love with Satine, and not in love with me, but he thinks both things are equal?” Anakin wanted to tell her it didn't make  _sense,_ but something stopped him.

“Not the same... but carrying a similar weight.” Ahsoka shook her head. “That's why Satine hasn't gone to see him yet. If she walked in there as a perceived enemy of his new life, he would respond in a similar way he did with you. But if she walks in there, speaking his new tongue, fluent with how he sees the world, and introduces him to peace the way  _his people_ have found it on their own... there may be hope. And once  _that_ has been achieved, he may be willing to allow... other things to surface. Pieces of the old Obi-Wan. If he doesn't perceive his past as an enemy, or evil, or a threat to everything he holds dear now,  _then_ he may let her in farther.”

“And Satine is alright with this?” Anakin paced, torn between desperately wanting this to  _work_ and fear that it was a ridiculous dream.

Ahsoka smiled. “She has more control over herself than anyone I've ever met, except for Obi-Wan himself. There is more in common with a Mandalorian mind and Yuuzhan Vong mind than one might at first imagine. The constant assessing of weaknesses, the subliminal urge to attack. The pride. The unwillingness to hear _anything_ that even _whispers_ of something different than the creed they hold. The desperate need to conquer and fight and kill. The Yuuzhan Vong do it for their gods, honor, and family. The Mandalorians do it for money, honor, and family. The Yuuzhan Vong, for the glory of a home to be; the Mandalorians, for the glory of a Mandalore they already have.”

“I don't _get_ any of it,” Anakin admitted. “That kind of fanaticism. It just doesn't make _sense_ to me.”

Ahsoka nodded. “That's why it's not you or I in there training with Thrawn to do  _this._ Satine was practically made for this sort of thing, and she's had experience doing it  _well._ ”

“So we just stand here and _wait_?” Anakin demanded.

Ahsoka placed her hand on his shoulder, a steadying gesture. “That's what I did while you were gone, you know. I watched, and I waited.”

Sorrow flooded Anakin's soul.  _I wasn't here. And now that I am, I'm complaining._ “I'm sorry, Ahsoka. Everything's been so wrong with me for...”

Since Order 66 and Padmé's death.

“I know,” Ahsoka murmured. “We're going to see this through, Anakin. I know you have the patience. I know you love him enough to allow this to take the pace it needs.”

Anakin looked down into her face, and decided to be completely honest. “Waiting is... beyond difficult for me. I want to be  _moving._ Fixing.”

“Maybe we can find some way for you to be busy.”

 

* * *

 

Thrawn enjoyed his time with Satine, in spite of the break-neck speed of teaching.

He liked watching her mind work.

Now that she was on board, her focus and self-discipline were beautiful.

But she hadn't been easy to convince.

She'd demanded to know _exactly_ what had brought Thrawn to his conclusions about Obi-Wan's condition. She'd followed along, then considered...

_Then_ agreed to assist.

If she could be persuaded to take leave of her pacifism, she could certainly become a dangerous player against Palpatine's current galactic hold.

That was just another piece of information.

And Thrawn valued information above almost everything else.

Fortunately, Obi-Wan himself had no idea they were scheming to adjust his worldview just slightly.

The information he lacked could be the edge his friends needed.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka crouched inside the _gauntlet-_ class ship that Satine had brought.

Anakin was up to his elbows in its systems.

Any moment now, he would ask for the hydrospanner she held ready.

Already, his Force-signature was calming down as his hands danced through wires and couplings, making a ship that worked fine into a ship that worked  _better._

“How did Thrawn determine that there was something that  _could_ be saved?” Anakin's voice came back to her, muffled by metal.

Ahsoka wasn't surprised by the question. She knew he was trying to sort through things in his mind as his fingers sorted physical components. It's why she'd stayed, after leading him out here. “A sculpture, made by a Jedi a couple hundred years ago. Obi-Wan wasn't aware of it back when he was a Jedi, so his response to it now was unfettered by a need to  _portray_ something. His Yuuzhan Vong brain didn't know to try to falsify anything.”

Something clattered.

“He showed the Yuuzhan Vong a sculpture... and then pronounced Obi-Wan was alive somewhere? Hydrospanner.”

“You make it sound like magic.” Ahsoka passed the tool to the hand outstretched for it. “The sculptor, without realizing it, put pieces of his soul and worldview into his art. An artist always does. Thrawn finds those heartbeats, and watches how other people react to them. You may not  _see_ them, the way he does, but your soul reacts to them. You like or dislike a painting. You're attracted to a certain vase over another... or can't stand vases at all. They're all little signals that are just sitting there waiting to be read.”

“Are you learning how to read them?”

“I keep trying.” Ahsoka's lips twisted into a rueful smile that Anakin could probably  _hear,_ but not see. “But I don't see things until  _after_ he's pointed them out.”

“So Obi-Wan responded to the sculpture... and Thrawn saw flickers of a Jedi still inside?”

“Close enough.”

Long moments of relative silence passed as Ahsoka waited.

There was a question that would be headed her way, sooner or later...

“Why is he doing this? His plans for the galaxy are in motion, so what does he stand to gain from investing all this effort into taming our Yuuzhan Vong?”

Yep.

There it was.

“Curiosity, maybe? To see if he can?”

Kark. That sounded just a bit too rehearsed.

A grease-smudged face came into view, frowning. “Don't lie to me. Force, Ahsoka, why would you feel the need to lie to me?”

_So many reasons, Master. About so many things._

 

* * *

 

It hurt.

It had taken him a while to respect Ahsoka's decision, and to respect her need for space.

It had taken longer to come to a realization that her leaving didn't make his staying by Obi-Wan's side  _wrong._

Maybe Ahsoka was on to something, about three-dimensional relationships. Maybe things weren't as black-and-white as  _in-love-or-not-in-love._

Maybe the world came in full color.

Because he could no more turn his back on and leave Obi-Wan than he could have done it to Padmé.

But he sure as  _frip_ didn't want to kiss his Master.

Ahsoka was watching him, weighing her potential words.

It made his stomach flip over, a sickening sensation.

“There is something he wants,” she said at last. “I've agreed to help him achieve it.”

“Of _course_ it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart,” Anakin grumbled.

Ahsoka glared at him. “And  _that's_ why I lied. Because you were going to go on that way.”

“Oh,  _come on,_ Ahsoka. You're bribing him, or paying him, or whatever you want to call it—”

“There's something personal he's set aside for almost two decades, so he could rescue  _us._ ”

“Only so his people would be safe. Right? That's it, isn't it? He needs to protect the galaxy so his people don't end up harmed?”

“How are you different?”

There it was again.

Another subtle suggestion of kinship.

_We are_ plenty  _different—_

Anakin tried to hide his discomfort with a shrug and by crawling back into the ship's guts. “So what's this personal thing?” he asked, as casually as he could manage.

“That's not my secret to tell.”

_I'll bet._ “How long is it going to take you?”

“As long as it takes, Anakin. I would help him with this even if he  _wasn't_ helping Obi-Wan.”

“You're really smitten, aren't you?” Anakin growled. “What _is it_ about him? I thought you didn't want to trust people anymore. Wanted to stay away from people, and  _certainly_ away from people who would try to  _teach_ you.”

Not good.

His throat was closing up. He focused more closely on the wires he had wrapped around his fingers.

For a long moment Ahsoka said nothing.

_She knows. She can sense it._

“It's a bit more complicated than that,” she murmured. “And if we succeed, and things aren't as bad as Thrawn thinks... it could be good for all of us.”

“What is he looking for? Yeah, yeah, not your secret, but if you're going to be gone for  _weeks_ —”

“Months, Anakin.”

“— _Months_ , then don't I have a right to know?”

_Keep it reasonable._

Hide the jealousy.

Hide the hurt.

Hide the confusion.

Hide the fact that without Obi-Wan Kenobi as his anchor, Anakin Skywalker was utterly lost.

Hide the fact that he wanted to cling to Ahsoka as a surrogate.

Hide the knowledge that her deliberate keeping of him at arms' length scared the kark out of him.

Hide just how close he'd come to destruction in recent days.

Hide just how close he was to it  _now._

“This isn't a safe place right now, Anakin. Palpatine is still in charge. There is no Jedi Order. Obi-Wan won't be the protector we've known.”

“I thought Thrawn wanted Palpatine.”

“He wants a unified galaxy until we can settle things with the Yuuzhan Vong. Things have to be accomplished in a certain order, or everything falls apart.”

“I don't like this, Ahsoka.” _That_ he could say without betraying his inner turmoil. Right?

“Anakin, you're going to have your hands full. Even if you aren't involved in Obi-Wan's attempt to equalize, you're going to be busy with a rebellion against Palpatine, and you're the only Jedi left, so you'll have to decide what you're going to do about training other Force sensitives or not—”

“ _What_?” Panic exploded through his entire body.

“Even if Thrawn succeeds, Obi-Wan will be in no shape to teach.”

He froze, focusing all his attention on trying to keep his voice steady, normal,  _unconcerned_ — “What about  _you_ ?”

“I'm not a Jedi anymore, and I will not be taking apprentices, or teaching classes. I am simply a citizen... who happens to be Force-sensitive.”

Never, with Ahsoka standing so close, had he ever felt so alone.

Ahsoka had always been  _company._

And now...

_She's distant. And I don't know how to bridge the gap, I don't even know_ why  _it's there, and Thrawn is stepping in to take my place._

But even more immediate—

_I can't rebuild the Order. And it's not my place to decide if it_ is  _going to be rebuilt or not!_

And the Force around her words revealed even more.

_She has no intention of being near me. She still plans to do her own thing._

_“Even if you aren't involved in Obi-Wan's attempt to equalize”_ was what Ahsoka had said.

_If I don't have Obi-Wan, and I don't have Ahsoka..._

Where the  _frip_ was he to go? And what the hell was he to  _do_ ?

She seemed to think he'd try to take out Palpatine, but...

He wasn't sure what the  _point_ was.

He stared up at the ship.

_I_ need  _Obi-Wan in my life. Ahsoka's right. We're not_ just  _friends_ .  _And I can't try to use Ahsoka as a crutch; she doesn't want me._

The question was, how did he fit in with Obi-Wan's life now?

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Anakin stood in Thrawn's observation room, watching the screens.

He was  _ not  _ here  _ with  _ Thrawn.

Thrawn just happened to be in the room  _ too. _

Ahsoka had opted to not observe, murmuring something about  _ privacy,  _ but Anakin figured that if  _ Thrawn  _ was present, it was a bit late to worry about  _ that. _

Words fired back and forth, an incoherent jumble against Anakin's ears. The tone of the language sounded harsh to his Basic-trained senses.

He wasn't entirely sure whether he was sorry he didn't understand a word of it... or grateful.

“Is it safe for her to be on that side of the barrier?” Anakin asked.

Thrawn watched for a long moment, then answered without looking at the Jedi. “It is what she directed.”

“That doesn't mean  _ safe. _ ”  
“I don't suppose you would call her  _ plan  _ safe, either.”

Anakin frowned. “What's her plan?”

“She intends to convince him that though she may be a heretic and outsider, she understands.”

An audio memory shivered through Anakin's mind. A loud  _ crack. _

He winced.

Obi-Wan had set the bone to his own fancy— not quite straight— several weeks ago.

Somehow, his body had accepted the modification.

Both the breaking and the setting haunted Anakin's dreams.

He was beginning to understand why Ahsoka usually stayed away from the observation room.

Anakin doggedly refused. He all but slept in here.

He wasn't going to leave Obi-Wan again.

Thrawn no doubt sensed the discomfort he waded through in order to keep that promise.

_ If I wouldn't like the plan to convince him... _

_It can't just be words._

“She's not going to...  _ hurt  _ herself, is she?”

Just how far was something supposed to go before it became  _ too  _ far?

“You do not have to be present—”

“That's not the  _ point. _ ” Everything about this felt surreal to Anakin.  _ We've all lost our minds.  _ He would have thought that doing so  _ together  _ would make it a bit better, but no.  _ Someone should probably check to make sure we're not dead, and this some sort of twisted afterlife. _

Yeah. He'd probably died when he walked into this building for the first time. Some trap had gotten him, and he'd been stuck in...  _ this _ ... ever since.

“What is your objection?” Thrawn asked, no sign of impatience in his voice. “The apparent barbaric nature of it? You are unfamiliar with Mandalorian culture, perhaps.”  
“I doubt they hurt themselves.”

“Correct. Their behaviors are usually inflicted on others, not self; but the Duchess is accustomed to such levels of violence.”

“I doubt she's broken bones on  _ purpose  _ before, just to make a point—”  
Thrawn raised his eyebrows in amusement.

Anakin squinted. “She  _ has _ ?”

“Perhaps you would find it of interest to ask her about her past, some time.”

“But she's a  _ pacifist— _ ”

“Have you ever wondered  _ why _ ?”

“I thought it was because she didn't like violence.”

Thrawn looked back at the screen. “Quite the opposite.”

_ She liked it... too  _ much _? _

That would make the total abstinence make...

So much more sense.

_ Like an ex-druggie refusing to touch glitterstim, or go to dens where it's consumed. _

“But if it's not the animalistic nature of the action that is bothering you, rest assured that she has an understanding with pain. She knows what she can take, and it is impressive.”  
_ I have a high threshold too, but... _

But.

“And if you are concerned about what it may do to her emotionally, I think you'll find that the Mandalorian perception of beauty has no problem with accepting traces of wounds. And even if it did, the Duchess has only ever cared about what Master Kenobi thought of her beauty... and his tastes in the matter are fairly self-evident.”

_ So, basically, if she recovers, that's fine, and if she doesn't, that's fine too. _

Nope. They weren't dead.

Probably locked in some facility somewhere.  _ This is all happening in my head, and my doctor is probably a Duros I've villainized into  _ this  _ monster and Obi-Wan probably never existed. He's always been a figment of my imagination. _

Anakin's face scrunched.  _ Force, I need sleep. _

 

* * *

 

His brother hadn't come back.

That was probably wisdom on his part.

But...

Obi-Wan wished he would return. Wished he would  _ understand. _

Instead, every effort Obi-Wan had made to wake him up had driven him farther into the arms of weakness.

It didn't make sense.

He couldn't remember specifics... but when he'd seen his brother walk in, his spirit had whispered,  _ here is a strong man. _

Apparently Obi-Wan's soul had been mistaken.

And then  _ she  _ had walked in. After weeks of being left to his own devices, the solitude had been broken by  _ her. _

Everything in him responded.

And she had quietly, calmly, entered  _ his  _ side. Not the safe zone on the other side of the filthy man-made barrier.

_ Her  _ eyes didn't widen in shock.  _ She  _ didn't stink of fear.

Of revulsion.

His  _ brother,  _ had  _ rejected  _ him.

How was that  _ possible _ ?

He'd looked at him and felt  _ disgust— _

Had looked at him as though he had been abandoned, rejected by the gods,  _ fallen— _

_ I thought he loved me. _

He'd practically spit in Obi-Wan's face and disowned him.

Worse...

His brother despised the gods. Did everything he could to anger them.

And the gods had only allowed them a new home...

_ If...  _

They purged it.

That made his  _ brother  _ the  _ enemy. _

So he watched  _ her _ , wary.

She didn't look Yuuzhan Vong.

Would he have to kill her  _ too _ ?

He didn't want to. He sure as  _ death  _ didn't want to.

When she spoke, she didn't use the accursed language of the infidels.

She used  _ his  _ tongue.

“You look well, my love.”

Cautious relief surged through him. She  _ understood _ ? Was it too much to ask for her to understand?

He turned in a slow circle, arms held out, to let her see every angle. To make  _ sure  _ she hadn't missed something. But as he found her eyes again, the expression was the same.

No revulsion.

No hate.

No rejection.

His heart squeezed, it  _ hurt. _

And pain meant he was  _ alive. _

He took a step closer to  _ her. _

He couldn't quite... come up with her  _ name... _

But he wasn't sure it mattered. She knew  _ him. _

“How are you here?” he whispered, finding it difficult to speak.

She glanced up at the ceiling, where there were undoubtedly surveillance devices, though he couldn't see them. “Friends in high places.”

His feet took him even closer.

She didn't back away in revulsion, or stand her ground in a refusal to be intimidated.

She moved to _meet_ him. She ran her hands up his forearms— _both_ forearms, the human and the new one, fingers caressing so lovingly.

She accepted him.

_ All  _ of him.

The gods had been too kind to him.

But something was off.  _ Very  _ off.

He couldn't see... a single blemish...

No, that wasn't true. There was a vicious scar dragged down her upper arm. Something... about it...

He was fairly certain he'd been there when it had happened.

But he couldn't remember it.

And it certainly was not enough.

He  _ knew  _ she had strength. Ferocious strength. He knew he respected her to his core, that he believed in her—

Why, then, did she look like an untested weakling? Why had she been denied the privilege of beautifying her form?

Her fingers lay where Obi-Wan's arm and his symbiont joined. Her quiet gaze watched his face. “What is it?” she asked.

He took her hand in his, drawing her arm out and inspecting the solitary scar. Then he circled her, just to make sure he hadn't missed something obvious. But no.

Fear jolted through him.

What if this was a trick?

What if the blue-skin had turned her against him? What if she was here to destroy him? To tear apart his soul? How would he  _ stand  _ it? Betrayal was not a pain that was a  _ gift— _

And after his brother cast him aside, how could he survive if  _ she  _ did too?

Slipping close with honeyed words, ready to stab him in the back?

 

* * *

 

Anakin watched with growing anxiety as Satine initiated contact.

And then his Master was circling her, like a wolf readying for a kill.

“He is afraid, General Skywalker. Not murderous.”

Anakin squinted. Without the Force offering him clues about emotions, he had to rely on expressions and gestures.

And Obi-Wan's were all wrong.

But Thrawn was the one who could understand what they were saying, so...

Anakin breathed deep and even, waiting it out.

 

* * *

 

“Why do you look like one of  _ them _ ?” Obi-Wan hissed, his fingers tightening against her wrist until it inflicted pain.

Satine pressed into it, instead of flinching. “Infiltration, my love. Have they done something to your mind?”

“Yes... I think... much is missing. I cannot remember.”

She saw confusion and fear in his eyes. Buried deep beneath aggression, but present.

“It won't be much longer,” Satine murmured, lifting her free hand to caress his face. “Patience, and then you will be free.”

His eyes rolled up in his head, and he pressed deep against her hand, completely vulnerable in that moment.

Lost.

It stole Satine's breath.

His body remembered.

He might not.

But it sure did.

“My warrior,” she whispered in his ear.

His breath stuttered, and then his eyes slit open again, so close to her own this time.

“Are you here to betray me?” he asked.

The grip on her wrist, which he hadn't lessened, tightened further.

Satine breathed carefully through her nose, meeting his searching gaze, knowing she would wear a bracelet of bruises for days.

Maybe longer, depending on how far he was going to take this.

The thought was darkly amusing.

_ Depending on how far  _ we  _ take this. _

“To betray you would be to betray the gods, child of Yun Yuuzhan.” she said with utter conviction.

In this moment, she embraced everything that religion entailed.

It wasn't an act. And the truth of it sang in her eyes.

“I have been denied the Embrace of Pain for so long,” she murmured. “I cannot afford to slip away, and there is no place I could hide it. Please, would you help me, in a way I can conceal from the infidels?”

 

* * *

 

Anakin saw the moment when Obi-Wan's suspicions fell away. The darkness cleared from his eyes, his body relaxed, and his expression turned to one of absolute adoration and love.

_ Yuuzhan Vong are  _ capable  _ of love? _

Or was this some of the old Obi-Wan returning?

Obi-Wan twined his human fingers with Satine's, a gesture that could have been normal, if one could have ignored the deformities that claimed his body.

And then he put Satine's shoulder out of joint.

_ Not the old Obi-Wan, then. _

Disbelieving, Anakin watched as Satine's head fell back, her eyes slitted, lips slightly parted.

Obi-Wan turned her, drew her close, wrapped his arms around her waist, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder. A stream of continuous words fell from his lips as he tucked his head to her neck.

Satine murmured something that Anakin thought looked like a prayer.

 

* * *

 

Satine let Obi-Wan take her weight as pain shattered through her.

Sweet  _ Manda _ that hurt. It had been years since she'd had a dislocated shoulder.

Anger flooded her bloodstream, an automatic response to the pain. Had she still been old-style Mandalorian, she would be ripping Obi-Wan to shreds now. Injury be damned.

In fact, that battle rush dulled the pain. Made it irrelevant in the overwhelming urge to deal damage.

She took the energy infused into her by the anger and turned it to something else.

Instead of murdering Obi-Wan...

She murmured words her goddess, and leaned back into his embrace.

He'd never held her like this before.

He crooned to her, breath warm on her neck, a steady stream of affirmation. “So beautiful. So perfect. So strong.”

The words resonated in her heart.

She let her mind float on his praise, his closeness, and prayed to the ones who looked down on lovers and smiled.

She allowed herself to get just a little lost, allowed him to be the one to drag her to the surface.

His hand ghosted across her upper arm in warning, and then with a jolt her shoulder was back where it belonged.

He held her tight through the lingering shivers, head pressed against hers.

“The day will come when you are allowed the signs of status you deserve,” Obi-Wan murmured into her hair. “When everyone will see you for the magnificent creature you are, and will bow to you.”

Hmm.

She liked the sound of that.

Her eyes glittered and she turned in his embrace, reaching up to touch his lips with her fingers. “I must go. But I will return when I get the chance. In the meantime, you may receive a visit from command.”

“I look forward to it,” he whispered, ending with a kiss to her fingertip.

Once she'd extracted herself from Obi-Wan's line of sight, she let out a silent, half-mad sigh.

This was going to be difficult.

_ Very  _ difficult.

And not because of the pain.

Though that was  _ seriously  _ kriffing her off now. She really needed to punch something.

With the other hand.

She stalked her way back to Thrawn's observation room, seething the while.

She'd forgotten how pain opened up a door she'd kept resolutely shut for years.

It didn't make her want to run  _ away.  _ Pain never had.

It made her want to take down whatever had inflicted it. Deal it  _ back  _ twofold. Or more. Depended on the day.

And today?

Was a very good day.

 

* * *

 

Satine stepped into the room, all hint of royalty gone from her step and bearing.

She carried herself like a predator, just  _ begging  _ to be let off its leash.

Anakin stared at her in stunned disbelief.

Her gaze flicked to his face, and he could practically  _ see  _ her analyze his weaknesses in the space of a heartbeat.

It triggered all of his threat warnings, though he ignored them and held still.

Satine turned on her heel to switch her gaze to Thrawn's face.

The Chiss moved forward, hands outstretched. “Allow me?”  
Anakin tried to make sense of it as Thrawn tended to the swelling joint.  _ He was right. She is familiar with pain. _

And, strangely...

He recognized the snarl in her eyes as something he'd felt  _ himself. _

The surge of rage when struck with an electrostaff.

But somehow she'd  _ not  _ allowed that to hit while still with Obi-Wan.

He stopped worrying that the Duchess had signed on for something she didn't really understand.

_ She's fully capable of dealing with this. Probably better than me. Definitely better. _

“Thanks,” she muttered to Thrawn, the lofty tones all gone. It was a voice Anakin would have expected to encounter on a battlefield.

Or in a Coruscant lower-levels fighting ring.

Which he had never actually partaken in, of course.

Nope.

Definitely not.

 

* * *

 

Satine's body groused at her, more angry than that one time she'd thrown a fight in favor of her opponent.

That had happened  _ once. _

It was  _ supposed  _ to happen twice...

But she hadn't been able to keep her temper in check the second time.

She was better than the chakaar facing her. She wiped the floor with his shebs.

The  _ good old days. _

She sneered to herself as she felt Thrawn's ministrations. The man knew what he was doing, that was certain.

She breathed in, out...

Chose not to verbally abuse him...

Managed a word in basic that sounded vaguely polite. She thought.

_ Hell  _ she wanted to kill something.

Preferably a Yuuzhan Vong. Yeah. One of the ones who had turned her Obi-Wan into  _ this  _ mockery of his former self _. _

She was very interested in discovering if their eyeballs had a similar consistency to humans'.

Very curious if they would approve of the pain if she tortured each of their symbionts and slaughtered  _ them  _ first. Left the Yuuzhan Vong itself alone. Sightless. Deaf.

No— no—

Yuuzhan Vong felt that vicious deaths in war were the height of glory.

So the  _ best _ result would be to allow a droid, not even programmed for war, to kill it.  _ Accidentally. _

And then, instead of treating the body with respect...

Handing it over to Republic scientists.

Yes.

_ Or _ , better  _ still— _

Capturing a Yuuzhan Vong, carefully cutting away its symbionts, and replacing them with mechanical limbs, like Anakin's hand, and implants. Cybernetic eyes... neural enhancers for the brain...

Oh...

_ Yes. _

Seeing to it that the creature remained unconscious until healed. Perfectly healed.

Then stand back and watch it scream as it tears itself limb from limb in horror, a desperate bid to beg forgiveness of gods who don't see and don't care. The pain of its death not a glory, but a horror, a disgrace, as it _hates_ itself and begs for mercy.

The apex predator in the room not their precious  _ yunne _ ...

But the Mando.

A prison cell of mirrors. Walls, ceiling, floor.

Nothing to hide behind.

Forcing it to confront its desecration until it rips the eyes from their sockets with its own claws.

The sounds of flesh being torn from its metal counterparts.

Blood. Fear.

All there to be smelled, tasted,  _ savored— _

A choked noise brought her gaze up.

Blue eyes, widened in shock, stared at her. Fixated. Unable to look away.

She sent him a lazy smile that was all teeth.

_ I'm back. _

 

* * *

 

Anakin wanted to look away, wanted to  _ leave— _

But she was staring him in the eye, a casual contest. Daring him to look away first.

And, crazy as it sounded...

Anakin felt as if he might feel a knife in his throat if he blinked first.

Was  _ this  _ the creature Obi-Wan had fallen in love with? Was that why he had been so frustrated with the pacifist?

Merciful  _ Force _ , what did that say about Obi-Wan's weaknesses?

And no  _ wonder  _ he hadn't fallen in love since.

Thank the light there weren't many beings like this in the universe.

Anakin couldn't imagine what a planetful of them would be like. Armies for hire. Torturers for fun. Going with the highest bidder.

A shudder ran down his back.

With Sith undoubtedly being those highest bidders.

Flashes of intent and even a couple images had bled through from her mind. Clearly Obi-Wan had taught her a few things... and she'd either not cared if Anakin heard her, or had forgotten his presence.

He'd felt the pacifism of Mandalore to be extreme. Unreasonable.

_ It's not. It really isn't. _

And he hoped, desperately hoped, she reverted to her sweet, charming self soon.

The one he wouldn't be afraid of sleeping on the same planet with.

 

* * *

 

“Come back now,” Thrawn guided, his voice as quiet as always.

Satine snapped her gaze to his face.

No.

She didn't want to return to the cage. She wanted to stay  _ here. _ She wanted to storm out of this building and tear her way through Palpatine's guards to the Sith lord who had broken her love's heart when he gave the order to slaughter his family.

She wanted to hunt down Maul, who had dared to attack her Mandalore. Who had killed Qui-Gon and shattered a much younger Obi-Wan's heart. Oh, what she'd do to him. He thought what he'd suffered at Obi-Wan's hands had been bad...

And  _ those  _ years of suffering had been an accident. Obi-Wan had been trying to  _ kill  _ him, not torment him.

She would not be so mercy-oriented.

She wanted to call her clansmen to her side and unleash blood and fire against those who would stand against her family.

_ All  _ who would stand against her family.

Mando and Jedi alike.

It was so much easier to resign herself to peace when her soul lived and breathed for the same cause.

He  _ didn't,  _ anymore.

He was just as eager to slaughter.

And he was  _ magnificent. _

Images of the two of them together on a battlefield, alone against an army—

Herself in beskar'gam of Mandalorian Iron... lightsaber-proof and cold—

He in beskar'gam of bone. Living, and as vicious as his own rage.

A smile curved her lips again.

No.

She wasn't going back in the cage.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Guide
> 
> Chakaar (Pronounced /chah-KAR/) = General term of abuse
> 
> Shebs (Pronounced /shehbs/) = Ass
> 
> Beskar'gam (Pronounced /bess-car-GAM/) = Mandalorian armor


	10. Chapter 10

 

Anakin held his breath.

_ What have we unleashed? _

Thrawn watched Satine for a moment, then nodded. “Perhaps Ahsoka would be interested in sparring.”

Anakin stepped forward to intervene, then paused.

_ She's not a kid anymore. _

But...

Anakin had never fought  _ this  _ kind of Mandalorian before. He'd come up against a few who had struggled to retain the old ways...

But nothing like  _ this. _

Satine  _ was  _ the old ways.

A whole different class than anything Anakin had ever faced.

 

* * *

 

“Your fear is pointless,” Satine offered, trying for a reassuring tone. From Anakin's increased tension, it seemed it hadn't worked. Might have something to do with her eyes.

_ That won't go away until I've been able to stretch. It's been too long. _

“She is my grandaughter. I will never inflict needless harm on her.”  
“Wait—  _ granddaughter _ ? And what do you mean by  _ needless _ ?” Anakin pursued, looking just a little dazed.

Satine shrugged. “She is already a fine warrior. Whatever I may be able to teach her would only improve her.”

Anakin snapped his jaw shut and turned worried eyes to Thrawn.

“Perhaps if you have concerns you should take them up with the young lady in question,” Thrawn offered.

Satine watched her son leave the room, and considered the ways she might be able to help him, too.

 

* * *

 

He watched for a while, his focus completely on trying to discern Satine's intentions.

He found strange flashes of affection and pride in response to Ahsoka's prowess, and he couldn't discover any desire to harm.

Deciding the Mando didn't want to hurt his former Padawan, he retreated to find Thrawn.

“What is happening with Satine?” he asked, glancing up at the observation screens.

Obi-Wan sat in a corner of his cell, staring off at nothing.

Anakin hadn't seen him do that before.  _ Is Satine already disrupting his routines? _

“We discussed that this course of action would be likely to awaken certain dormant tendencies,” Thrawn explained. “She felt it worth the risk.”

“And when she goes back to Mandalore, and their Duchess is a completely different person, what then?”

Thrawn gave a small smile. “Korkie is the current head of the Mandalorian government, until elections can be held. She resigned.”

Anakin stared at him in shock. “She  _ what _ ?”

“She is now a former Duchess. It was a safeguard in case we could not bring the other Satine back.”

Anakin pressed his palms to his aching eyes.  _ For the love of... _

_We're all fripped._

He moved as far away from the Chiss as he could get and not leave the screens, and sat down on the floor with his back to the wall.

Drawing up his knees, he braced his arms on them and lowered his chin to rest there.

He hadn't felt this out of control since...

Since he watched Padmé and his children die...

Since he held his Mother as she died...

Since a childhood of slavery.

He  _ hated  _ feeling out of control.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were still here, but he couldn't control them.

They had both stepped out of his grasp and refused to play by his rules anymore.

_ Is this how normal people live?  _ he wondered.  _ They have to just stand back and let their loved ones... make their own choices, and hope they come out of it alright? _

If so, life was  _ hell. _

_ Please be alright.  _ Please  _ be alright... _

For so many years of his life, he could take his lightsaber and Force ability and  _ make  _ things work out. He could rescue Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Padmé. He could  _ win  _ that battle.  _ Land  _ that ship. Leap that chasm. Kill that enemy.

Release that captive.

But some battles he couldn't fight  _ for  _ his loved ones.

They had to fight them on their own.

He'd never been particularly good at believing they  _ could. _

Never been good at trusting them to make their own decisions.

 

* * *  
  


He hadn't meant to fall asleep.

He awoke to harsh, grating voices.

Thrawn stood looking up at the screens, hands behind his back, in the same place as when Anakin had last seen him.

_ Surely he moved. He just came back. Right? _

Anakin pushed against the cold floor so he could sit upright again.

That's when he caught sight of them.

Obi-Wan on his knees, head bowed in submission, and the pure-blood Yuuzhan Vong walking around him.

“Who is that?” Anakin asked.

He marveled that he didn't feel anger over having been left out. He just had that sickening feeling that he needed to catch up again.

It was happening a lot, lately.

“An ally. One of those who has decided to push back against the current system. And fortunately for us, fairly high up in the natural hierarchy. Master Kenobi was quick to recognize the fact he has rank and authority magnitudes above his own.”

Pieces clicked together in Anakin's brain. He stood, no longer feeling tired. “So Satine went in there, convinced him she saw the universe the way he does, and now a superior officer is telling him to go in a new direction? He'll turn to Satine as a sounding-board, because he trusts her... and she can lead him home.”  
A small smile lit Thrawn's face. “Precisely. It's good to have you back, General Skywalker.”

The slump that had hijacked Anakin's shoulders melted away.

It felt as though something that had been impossible to read had suddenly been translated into Basic.

The blows had come so quickly.

Ahsoka had left.

Palpatine's betrayal, and the realization that he'd been played. For  _ years. _

Padmé and the children dying.

The entire Order dying.

The way the loss of his family crippled Obi-Wan and aged him, stripping flesh from his bones and leaving him silent and gaunt and grieving.

The war simply... stopping, its purpose completed. The knowledge that it had all been a plot. A distraction. A lie.

The loss of the clones' constant presence. That terrible moment when Rex turned around and tried to kill him.

The Yuuzhan Vong invasion. The discovery that while he may have been a stunning warrior against droids...

He could barely survive against these foes.

Then making deals with Sith...

And Obi-Wan's disappearance...

He'd steadily lost all grip on any self-respect he had for himself.

He'd forgotten what he was capable of. Had allowed himself to react slower. Revert more towards his Padawan self.

_ Obi-Wan did that, in his first fight with Maul after his return. _

And Obi-Wan had been beaten.

Badly.

In his second battle with the Sith and his brother, he  _ remembered.  _ Remembered who he was, what he had learned, gained,  _ experienced  _ since that terrible day on Naboo...

And he cut off Savage's arm, incapacitating him.

If he'd been able to hold them  _ both  _ off, there was no way Maul could finish him.

Not alone.

So he'd fled, taking his injured brother with him.

And he'd been careful to not meet Obi-Wan in combat since.

_ I'm not the whiny, pathetic kid I once was. I raised a Padawan. She's an adult, living on her own now. She's not following the path I thought she would, but she's... amazing. I fought in the war. I survived that, Order Sixty-six, and the first waves of the invasion. I broke free from Palpatine. I found Obi-Wan. I survived losing my wife. _

Obi-Wan had been his anchor during that last one. His tether to sanity.

_ Maybe I can do the same for you, my Master. _

He'd been looking at what he had lost, and all the ways he felt he'd failed.

_ But each one of those things I survived. _

And every perceived failure was an opportunity to strengthen defenses, learn to guard against such attacks in the future.

Looking back, he could see how Palpatine had manipulated him over the years.

He would be less naive in the future.

And anyone who tried to drive a wedge between himself and Obi-Wan...

That wasn't a person he could trust.

Obi-Wan.

The last words he'd said to Anakin before everything went to hell had been,  _ “You are strong and wise, Anakin, and I am very proud of you.”  _ His eyes gentle, voice warm with love.  _ “I have trained you since you were a small boy. I have taught you everything I know... and you have become a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be.” _

Obi-Wan didn't give praise lightly.

He only said that because he  _ believed  _ it.

_ He believes in me. _

Anakin wasn't sure he himself believed all that Obi-Wan had said, but...

_ I am alive. Obi-Wan is alive. Ahsoka is alive. Satine is alive. _

_And we're going to fight._

But they were going to fight  _ smart. _

Fight the way he had during the war. Not the flailing that came afterwards.

_ We'll do Obi-Wan proud. _

So he stood beside Thrawn, watched, and listened.

_ It's time I start learning Obi-Wan's new language and worldview. _

 

* * *

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Thrawn saw Anakin Skywalker's posture straighten.

The final member of his team was ready to actively participate now.

 

* * *

 

There was no life on this planet. Nothing for Satine to hunt and kill.

But Ahsoka had been willing to spar.

That had been helpful... had taken a little of the edge off...

But while the younger woman was excellent,  _ very  _ excellent...

If the fight had been real, she would have been dead.

A lot.

Thrawn— curse his smug shebs and kiss him for his foresight— had a suit of beskar'gam that fit. And weapons to match.

It wasn't  _ her  _ armor.

And the colors were blue and gray.

Reliability and mourning a lost love.

Those had never been her colors.

No.

_ Orange  _ was hers.

Lust for life.

But this would do for now. No-one but Thrawn and Obi-Wan would understand the significance anyway.

Her son and granddaughter  _ really  _ needed an education.

And then Anakin strode down the steps of the palace.

The grace he had earned during the Clone War returned to his step, and a willingness to look her in the eye that he'd lacked in recent days.

Ahsoka practically glowed when she saw the difference...

But Anakin wasn't there to talk.

Thrawn had explained Satine's difficulty to him.

He'd come to offer himself and his battle prowess.

That was a fight that would stay with her a long, long time. The pain from her shoulder allowed it to feel just genuine enough to satisfy.

She hadn't had an opportunity to test herself against Obi-Wan since he'd come into his own.

Fighting the warrior he'd trained...

Next best thing.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka couldn't quite believe her eyes as she backed away.

Her Master was  _ magnificent. _

She'd never seen him fight with  _ everything  _ he had in him.

Nothing they'd faced together had ever challenged him  _ that  _ far.

Satine  _ did. _

_If the Mandalorians of old were like this..._

_No wonder they hunted Jedi._

No wonder the Council had been so worried when rumors started circulating that Mandalore was rising again.

Death Watch soldiers were nothing like this.  _ Child's  _ play, compared to this.

And Death Watch soldiers weren't shabby.

 

* * *

 

Anakin stood still, breathing hard, watching as Satine removed her helmet.

That had been...

Only Obi-Wan ever challenged him this far.

Neither had won.

They called it a draw.

His eyes widened as Satine's palm came to rest against his cheek.

“Well done,” she murmured.

A split second later she'd turned on her heel and glided back into the palace.

He was left standing there in shock.

The gesture... the words...

It's how Obi-Wan used to praise him after sparing.

_ Does she know? _

He could sense both love and pride spilling through the Force around the former Duchess.

_ She sees us as family. _

A very strange family.

_ A no-longer Jedi, _

_A once and present Mando,_

_Mythological Chosen One,_

_And a Jedi-turned-Yuuzhan Vong._

Yeah.

It was a strange family indeed.

 

* * *

Obi-Wan knelt in a far corner, rocking back and forth, staring at his hands.

Days had passed since his encounter with...

Someone who defied all his expectations. To say the least.

Days that were wearing on him.

The four stood in the observation room and watched.

_ We are close,  _ Satine knew.  _ Very close. _

Her mind was working much more clearly thanks to Anakin's assistance in battle. It had less of a red haze of need.

Though she would be glad to escape this planet, when the time came.

Killing was still important.

_ Just a little longer, Love. _

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan struggled.

He  _ knew  _ what was right.

He  _ knew. _

So how could—

He clutched at his head.

Wasn't it heresy? Wasn't it...  _ wrong...  _ to suggest the gods didn't demand killing?

That it was the Priest caste, wanting control, wanting power?

Was it possible that the gods...  _ forgive  _ him for the thought... had been  _ betrayed  _ by the Priests?

It felt like his head might explode.

The pain was almost physical.

Everything had been so  _ clear  _ before.  _ So  _ clear.

It would have been so much easier if these terrible words had come couched in railing against the gods.

He could then easily label them as blasphemous, kill the blasphemer, and move on.

But...

Love of the gods had been  _ so apparent. _

Twined in and around and through the words like a symbiont.

And if the gods had turned against the blasphemer, his body's modifications would putrefy. Would sicken.

He'd been healthy. Strong.

So,  _ so  _ far up the chain...

_ If the gods have nothing to say against him... _

_Does that make him right?_

But that went against  _ everything  _ he'd ever been taught.

_ By the Priest caste,  _ his traitorous mind whispered.

He groaned, not caring who might hear.

The infidels were meaningless.

_ Show me, show me, please,  _ he begged the yunne,  _ needing  _ them to answer, for once.

They were silent.

One mind wasn't enough to work through this. He needed another to help him make sense of it. To divide truth from lie.

A mind he could trust.

_ If you want me to consider these strange, terrifying ideas... _

_ Send  _ her  _ back to me. _

_Soon._

 

* * *

 

Anakin saw the moment when Obi-Wan's head lowered in defeat.

The moment when he gave up the struggle.

“He is ready,” Thrawn murmured.

Anakin felt his pulse jump.  _ I saw it. I saw it  _ myself _. _

Maybe he  _did_ belong in this room with these people.

He watched as Thrawn helped ease Satine back into a different head-space.

Felt respect for her, even if he couldn't quite reconcile the bloodthirsty killer with the gentle Duchess he'd known.

Stood beside Ahsoka and allowed himself hope that somehow, he would find a way to bridge the gap that had come between himself and his former Padawan.

Felt hope for Obi-Wan.

He wished he knew what it was Thrawn wanted...

_But I may be able to figure that out, if I work on it._

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Anakin held his breath as he watched Obi-Wan and Satine talk.

He only understood one word out of every hundred, but emotion played across Obi-Wan's face in a way that it never had before.

It made Anakin's heart ache.

He'd thought that such as sight would please him. Make Obi-Wan feel more accessible.

But it didn't.

It would be like wishing to see his eyes more, so cutting away his eyelids.

Obi-Wan's lack of control felt like a twisted wound to Anakin. Something he couldn't help, but that would have pained his former self.

Slender fingers gripped his shoulder, and a lump formed in his throat as he felt Ahsoka's gentle reassurance in the Force.

_Thank you. Thank you for being here, when I know you don't want to be anywhere near me._

 

* * *

 

Anakin's pain, his dread that all of this might be for naught pulsed like an insistent whisper in the Force.

He loved his Master. Deeply.

Ahsoka could relate.

He desperately didn't want to lose his Master to the insanity that had taken over from within.

Another way she could relate.

 

* * *  
  


Thrawn watched as the song played out before him. Satine and Obi-Wan, a strange harmony of pain and longing and love.

This was the turning point.

The place where it came together or fell apart.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan clenched his symbiont fist, his entire body shuddering.

And then a tear slipped from his eye.

His human fingers swiped it from his face, and he stared down at them in horror.

And then Satine's arms were around him, the ring of bruises encircling her wrist now a faded light green—

Obi-Wan's knees gave out and she lowered them both to kneel, holding him close as he sobbed.

“It is done,” Thrawn murmured.

Anakin's own knees felt weak. He leaned heavily against Ahsoka, unable to see as tears of his own flooded his eyes. He blinked them away. He needed to _see_ , to _know—_

Obi-Wan's arms moved to hold Satine close, desperate and lost. Anakin saw red stain her tunic as his Master's new claws dug unconsciously into her back.

Saw Satine close her eyes and lean her head against his, accepting the light wounds without complaint.

Saw the tears sliding down her nose.

 

* * *

 

Anakin stepped beyond the transparent wall.

Obi-Wan's hair was now the length it had been when Anakin had first met him, and was as thick as it had been then. Instead of lying flat, it stuck out all over his head like fur.

It covered most of the symbiont that still wove through his skull, though a large patch along the side near his ear wasn't skin. At least, it wasn't  _his_ skin. That part of his head almost looked shaved.

Apparently his face had been too damaged, since there was no sign of his beard returning.

Obi-Wan watched him, doubt in his eyes.

“You...  _are_ my brother?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Anakin swallowed hard. “Close enough,” he whispered back, wishing Thrawn had given him a script.

“You hate me.”

Anakin's eyes widened. “No.  _No,_ Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan's head cocked to the side, a sharp, almost avian motion. “That is the name you knew me by?”

Anakin nodded, wordless.

“You do not believe in the gods.”  
“I do not follow them, myself,” Anakin said, desperately wishing Satine could be here to  _guide_ him—

But both Thrawn  _and_ Satine had insisted he make this first attempt by himself.

For a long moment there was silence. Anakin feared that maybe the eyes in the observation room had been mistaken. Yes, Obi-Wan had responded well to Satine. Yes. They had been working together towards something a bit closer to sanity.

That did  _not_ mean Obi-Wan was ready to accept an infidel.

But here he was, on the  _unsafe_ side of the wall. Trying.

“I missed you.”

Anakin's heart bounded, then twisted at Obi-Wan's quiet words. He somehow met Obi-Wan's gaze. He tried to speak, but failed.

His Master stood there. Bones twisted, skin broken,  _coral_ sticking out of him, for the love of light, but  _standing._

And then Anakin had his arms around him, holding him tight.

And felt Obi-Wan clutch at him in return.

 

* * *

 

Satine heard the tiniest glitch in Thrawn's breathing. And once it continued, calm and steady... it sounded labored.

Not enough for Ahsoka to notice...

But more than plenty for Satine.

She considered.

He didn't care about the two in the cell.

Thrawn didn't _care_ in the sense most people used.

And he didn't become emotionally involved in his plans.

In fact, the only time he conveyed emotion was when the facade of it would help him communicate with other people. He could appear to feel compassion, or anger, or ambition.

It was possible that Thrawn was trying to manipulate  _her._

Or...

Several pieces in her subconscious clicked together.

Ahsoka, ready and willing to head into the unknown regions to search for  _something_ .

On a personal matter.

Thrawn's driving need to  _protect_ had to be fueled by  _something._ If it wasn't compassion for the  _whole,_ then what was it? She doubted he loved his people. Yes. He spoke of protecting them, admitting  _that_ was why he'd helped the galaxy close to his home...

But _why_ did he need to protect them?

Satine's gaze turned to where Obi-Wan instinctively tried to soothe Anakin's tortured weeping.

_Brother. Obi-Wan called him his brother._

_Brothers reunited._

_Brothers... who thought they would never see one another again..._

_A brother who thought the other was lost. Forever._

She could be wrong.

But she was Mandalorian. Thrawn might feel the need to map out  _every_ option before acting.

Satine just needed a very plausible one, and could then forge ahead. If it didn't work, she could come back and work on the equation again.

In that sense, it was like cracking a cipher.

Playing it safe never got you anywhere.

_You make a few reasonable assumptions, try it, and see where it goes._

“Ahsoka. Do you believe that you will find the Admiral's brother alive?” Satine asked, tone casual.

The young former Jedi jolted, her gaze snapping to Thrawn's face, then to Satine's.

And that gave her all the confirmation she needed.

For a long moment there was silence in the room, marred only by the screens. Anakin lightly tracing his metal fingers over the bone-shard spike rising from Obi-Wan's elbow, and the coral across his shoulders. The murmured words as each tried to accept the  _unacceptable_ about the other.

Obi-Wan, the machinery that was part of Anakin.

Anakin, the creatures that were part of Obi-Wan.

And then Thrawn murmured, “Feeling proud of yourself, Duchess?”

“It's a bit premature for that,” she returned, mirroring his refusal to turn his head from the screens. “Ahsoka seems to think that if you find him, it could be positive for the rest of us as well.”  
“She clings to hope,” Thrawn returned simply. “I do not.”

“You think him dead?”

Red eyes flicked her way, then back again. “What is it you hope to gain, here?”

“You had to save your people for your brother. And you had to save this galaxy to save your people. And to save this galaxy you had to tame the Yuuzhan Vong.” Satine paused to give emphasis to her final point. “It all works out. Until you get to the part where the man is dead. So you tell me. In a plan that takes well over a decade of effort to accomplish... are those the actions of a man who does not cling to hope?”

Satine threw a look Ahsoka's direction. “And the only reason you would need Ahsoka to search for your brother is if he is Force-sensitive, or the people around him are. And since Ahsoka seems to think we would be bettered for the finding... I'm leaning towards people around him. And since you've gone to such lengths to draw Obi-Wan to a place where he can talk civilly... and perhaps even begin to retrieve some of his memories...  _he_ is a piece to this too.”

_Now_ Thrawn turned to face her, eyes hooded and body coiled.

_He certainly isn't bringing Ahsoka for_ protection. 

“Outbound Flight,” Satine whispered.

From the intense, almost lethal gleam in Thrawn's eye, she knew she'd hit the mark.

For a long moment, no-one breathed.

“Impressive,” Thrawn said, the word spoken softly.

Not in a safe way.

“What is it that you hope him to remember, since it must be something Anakin could not provide? He was, what, fourteen standard years at the time? Saw as much— no, _more—_ of Outbound Flight's systems than his Master?”

 

* * *

 

“You can't remember anything?” Anakin asked, sitting on the floor, cross-legged, opposite Obi-Wan.

It caused Anakin all kinds of pain to see the wreckage of Obi-Wan's form.

_No. It's not broken. It's just different now,_ he told himself, stern and focused.  _He is no more incomplete or damaged than I am with_ my  _hand._

It was difficult to not sense Obi-Wan in the Force...

_But we will figure this out._

Obi-Wan's six new fingers twitched. “I can remember your name, and Ahsoka's, but I couldn't remember Satine's. She had to tell me. I figured mine out from conversations with Thrawn. And he told me who  _he_ was. I remember impressions. I knew I loved you. I knew I trusted you.”

Anakin tried to deal with the simple fact that Obi-Wan had just said he loved him.

Normally, it was like pulling teeth to get Obi-Wan to admit to such a thing.

But this Obi-Wan... didn't remember being a Jedi. That culture had been stripped from him and replaced with something very different.

“I have... other memories, Anakin. Of my people. I know that I did not live with them, I know they picked me from someplace else, but I know I  _belong_ .”

Anakin swallowed hard. “Thrawn said they... altered your brain. _Physically_. It's not just a brain-wipe.”

Obi-Wan blinked at him. “I understand I am not the man you're looking to find.”

Anakin reached out with his mechanical hand and seized Obi-Wan's symbiont hand. “Not true. That man is sitting right here.”

For a long moment Obi-Wan looked down at their hands, and then he drew his away. “I understand that the other me allowed himself to step back and become lost to make room for me.” His blue eyes rose to meet Anakin's. “But I am not that way. I am not willing to give myself up so your other Obi-Wan can return.”

Anakin's heart clenched. “I understand.”

“And... if I try to find him, if I attempt to... _share_ , was the word Thrawn used...”

Fear spilled through Obi-Wan's eyes and punched Anakin in the gut.

“I am not certain that he would not attempt to destroy me, or at the very least, lock me away. Would I not be abhorrent to him?”  
Anakin swallowed hard. “I'd like to think you are denying him the benefit of the doubt. My Master was... he was firm in his beliefs, but gentle with others who didn't hold them. He loved Satine, who... held very different views to his own.”

Again, the Yuuzhan Vong tilted his head, and this time a smile lit his face.

“And he... listens to her. He trusts her. And you trust her. So that is something you share already. And I believe she is willing to try to help both of you find some sort of... symbiosis.”

“My impression has been that it is not common for two individuals to share the same body.”

Anakin winced.  _Yeah. People go to therapy to eliminate all but one. It's considered an illness in humans._

_But you aren't human anymore, are you?_

“Not common, no. But Satine isn't...”  _The average person would want to put her in therapy too..._

Hell.

The average person would want Thrawn locked up somewhere.

_And probably me too._

“But my Master has never been too focused on being  _normal._ He was more interested in what was  _right._ And... you  _exist._ You have... hopes, and fears, and loves... and this body is attuned to you. I don't think he would just ignore your claim.”

“He does not believe in the gods.”  
“Do you believe that would make symbiosis impossible?”

Obi-Wan considered for a long moment. “I do not know. It is a question he would have to answer as well.”

“You won't get that answer unless you give him a chance.”  
“I don't know if I will be able to find him.” Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath. “And I am afraid of disappearing. To die... to die is one thing. I would join the gods. But to be lost in your own body is something else. Something... far more fearsome.”

Anakin felt a chill run down his back.

_To die is to become one with the Force._

_And to be lost..._

_This Obi-Wan agrees with what I was trying to tell the other one._

He wasn't sure how that made him feel. That this Obi-Wan's thought patterns might match closer to his own than the  _human_ Obi-Wan's had.

_What does that say about_ me _?_

“Everything I believe in... he is against,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Anakin's heart tightened. “Not everything. You said you... love... me.”

“Yes,” came the unashamed, convinced response.

“ _That_ you got from him,” Anakin choked, tears searing his skin. “ _Please_ let me see him. I need to tell him I'm sorry. I said terrible things— I  _hurt_ him when I should have been—” the beloved face was too much. He couldn't  _look_ at him. He turned his head. “ _Force,_ I was so stupid and  _selfish_ and I  _miss him_ so terribly. I miss his  _advice._ I never wanted it when it was here, but I  _need_ it now. I have to decide something... _massive_ ... and I'm not equipped for that. I'm not qualified, I have no  _right_ to decide it, but there is no-one  _else—_ ” 

“Anakin?”

Anakin's head snapped up.

Obi-Wan sat staring at his hands, eyes wide with a fragility and terror Anakin hadn't seen before.

“ _Anakin_?” more panicky, now—

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin whispered.

Blue eyes rose to meet his, and the Yuuzhan Vong body began to tremble.

And then Anakin had him in his arms, holding him close once more and sobbing into his scarred neck.

 

* * *

 

Satine's eyes, staring straight into his own, snapped up to the screens.

Half a second later, Ahsoka gasped.

Satine was already out the door.

Of course she would realize who had returned, at the first sound of his voice. Before her Force-sensitive family members.

 

* * *

 

“No,  _no_ ,” Obi-Wan gasped, shoving against Anakin and stumbling to his feet, one of his heel spikes catching on the floor on the way up. He stared down at himself in shock.

Anakin sprang up, holding out his hands in a soothing gesture. “Easy. Easy, Obi-Wan.”

His Master ran his human fingers over his symbiont hand, and made a choked noise as his brain received signals... from  _both_ .

“It's okay, Obi-Wan,” Anakin promised, swiping at his nose with his sleeve. “Just take it slow.”  
Obi-Wan's face went still, as he clearly focused on something—

And then he was trying to reach over his shoulder. He found the coral growths, alright. The fear in his eyes deepened as he stared at Anakin.

“Things are a little bit different than when you went under. You're alright. You're safe,” Anakin promised.

The look of intense concentration hadn't left Obi-Wan's face.

And then his head snapped back and he crashed to his knees, keening in agony. He clawed at his symbiont arm, as though wanting to tear it from his body—

“He promised me  _death_ ,” Obi-Wan yelled at Anakin through the crushing pain. “It was supposed to be  _over—_ that  _fripping bastard—_ ”

“You  _hurt_ ?” Anakin demanded in shock, kneeling beside him, helplessly holding out his hands, not sure what to  _do_ with them—

“ _Of course it hurts_ !”

Obi-Wan curled in on himself, shuddering, clearly overloaded—

“ _Listen_ to me. A minute ago, you were fine. These things aren't... they're  _alive_ , Obi-Wan, and they seem to have some level of  _understanding,_ if not sentience. Stop rejecting them. Accept them. They hear your thoughts or  _something,_ they sense they're not wanted, so of course they're responding with similar hostility. Just take a deep breath, hold it for a moment— you accepted them a moment ago.”

“What  _are you talking about_ ?” Obi-Wan's head came up to look at him, and Anakin could see the blood vessels in his eyes had burst.

Anakin caught his wrist, hoping to steady him, to keep him from drawing blood. “You were... a Yuuzhan Vong a moment ago. Alright? Your symbionts weren't trying to kill you.”

That didn't  _help_ . Anakin had seen this expression in Obi-Wan's eyes only once before, but he knew Qui-Gon had been familiar with it.

The look Obi-Wan had when he felt backed against the corner with absolutely no-where else to turn. Where  _everything_ had turned against him.

The look of anguished determination that though everything was taken away from him, he was going to go down  _fighting—_ with his bare fingers if he had to—

“Listen to me,” Anakin pleaded. “I was  _wrong._ I'm sorry. The Yuuzhan Vong aren't evil. Alright? There's some good ones. I'm sorry for the things I said, and I'm sorry I hurt you. I know you're afraid. I am too. But just moments ago I was talking to the Yuuzhan Vong you allowed yourself to be, and he  _wasn't evil._ And he let you come back to me, even though it scared him, because he wanted to help me. Alright? This body, it's... it's just different now. I need you to take a deep breath and accept it.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, trembling, eyes glassy. “Don't—” Whatever he was trying to say was lost in a cry of agony.

“Breathe, Obi-Wan. Just breathe. In, out. Look at me. Don't think about it. Alright? Think about me. I'm here. I'm  _apologizing._ I'm telling you I was wrong and unkind.  _Think_ about that. Now just breathe. I know you have some sarcastic, snarky one-liner somewhere in there. Find it, and let me have it.”

Obi-Wan didn't try to pull away. Instead, he seemed to be  _trying_ to center himself around Anakin...  _trying—_

The door opened.

Obi-Wan's head snapped up and he was out of Anakin's grip and across the room, backed against the wall.

Frustration surged through Anakin as he spun around—

_Oh, thank the Force._

Satine took a step into the enclosed area, looking calm and poised.

_She looks like a duchess again._

She simply looked at Obi-Wan with such love, but not a shred of pity.

Anakin glanced back at his Master, relieved. If anyone could soothe Obi-Wan through his new situation, it would be—

Obi-Wan started laughing.

Anakin cringed at the broken-glass sound of it.

“I nearly fell for it, too,” he gasped out in between cackles. “Look at that. How  _desperate_ I am.  _Well played._ ” The laughter disappeared into a snarl. He took several steps into the room. “I was ready to overlook the fact I'm  _walking._ I could even overlook the fact that Anakin  _apologized_ to  _me_ . I willing to overlook  _all of that_ . But you  _messed up_ !  _That—_ ” he pointed at Satine's eyes— “ _that_ is impossible. You mined the  _wrong era_ of my memories! You put the wrong eyes into the right age.”

Anakin tried to see what Obi-Wan saw, but Satine looked normal for the first time in... well... ever since she'd gone back to Mando.

“You've got to be listening, watching,” Obi-Wan growled. “So just get the  _frip on with it!_ ”

Anakin waited for Satine to convince Obi-Wan he wasn't still fused to an alter and this all happening in his head, a trick of his Yuuzhan Vong tormentors...

But...

Instead, she turned around and walked out.

Stunned, Anakin chased after her.

 


	12. Chapter 12

The  _instant_ she'd heard his voice in the observation room, Satine had known it was  _her_ Obi returned.

It was only reasonable that he could tell, from one glance, that there was something wrong.

She could hear Anakin's pounding footsteps behind her, but she refused to look back.

“Aren't you going to go back in there and convince him this isn't some sort of delusion?” Anakin demanded.

Satine looked out at the dusty, lifeless red of the planet's empty city and rock formations. “I'm not his Satine.”

“I think he'll get it, once you explain. I don't think it's going to drive him away. I mean, he fell in love with you when you were like this, right? So why—”

 

* * *

 

Anakin watched in shock as Satine leaned against a railing, lowering her head. He sensed _shame._

“I am not ready to look him in the eye and tell him I turned my back on my code, my beliefs.”

Anakin frowned. “Well...  _he_ did that, when he became Yuuzhan Vong, right?”

“He did that to save a galaxy. And he  _has._ It just doesn't know it yet. I did it... to save  _him_ .”  
“Doesn't that...  _why_ is that a problem?” Anakin asked, feeling very confused.

“It's the unspoken promise we made one another. To never give up our dreams for the other.” Satine shrugged. “I broke it. And he stood there, believing all the evidence of his senses a  _lie_ rather than think me a traitor.  _That_ is the strength of his faith in me.”

Anakin moved to stand beside her, following her gaze out to the eerie emptiness. “I get how you could see it like that. Did Obi-Wan resent your... Mandoness when you... first met?”

Satine barked a harsh laugh. “Far from it. He didn't approve of murder, but... things were tight and dangerous enough that as long as I didn't do it where they could interfere...” She shrugged. “Obi-Wan was horrified by some pieces of my culture. There was a certain incident with a knife.”  
Anakin felt something press into his hand, and his fingers instinctively closed.

He glanced down, found he was holding a small knife with a beautiful bone hilt.

“ _That_ is all that remains of my best friend growing up. She died in a raid. Fortunately, the explosion that claimed her left part of her leg findable.”

It took a moment for the dots to connect in Anakin's brain, and then he dropped the object, his gut heaving in horror.

Satine caught it before it hit the ground. “His response was similar.” She smiled fondly down at the knife. “I separated the bone from the gore, I cleaned it, I cut it to size, and then I carved it to fit a piece of beskar I shaped— what was left of her armor. It was my first memory weapon.”  
It was all Anakin could to to not edge away from her.

“I was eight years old, so it took me a few weeks to complete. It was that focus that carried me through. That and the promise of revenge. And when I found the hut'uun who had bombed her house, I took his manhood with this knife. And then I cut his heart out. My ninth birthday was spent cleaning his blood out from under my fingernails.”

Anakin shifted, trying not to seem obvious as he put a little distance between himself and her—

“Obi-Wan knew. He knew everything.” Satine slipped the knife into her boot. “I kept thinking that at some point, he would push me away. But when I lost my father, he _helped_ me make my memory weapon. He kissed my bloodied hands and promised we would find something better than revenge. We would find _justice_.”

She was looking Anakin in the face. Expecting him to meet her gaze.

He swallowed and somehow managed, trying to look neutral, trying to look  _anything_ but disgusted—

“The woman responsible for my buir's death  _still_ rots in prison.  _Still._ If I'd had my way, she would be long joined with the Manda. Far from pain. And now she paces a cell, chafing for freedom every day. Obi-Wan was right. Justice was better.”

“How...” Anakin tried to phrase his question without throwing himself from her good graces to somewhere...  _else._ “How did you go from there... to...”

He thought of the Duchess he'd known.

The one who would snipe at his Master with words that could flay flesh from bone. The woman whose hands shook as she aimed a blaster for a man who would have killed a ship full of people if she allowed him to walk away.

“Quickly. Very quickly.” Her gaze found the dead planet again. “He was there, when it happened. When... you've seen my planet. It was once full of rolling fields, green everywhere... beautiful forests and countless rivers. Now... it looks like  _this_ planet. Except... there are no natural formations or even traces of our old way of life. Everything... obliterated. We had to defy so many pieces of our current reality to even  _live_ on Mandalore anymore. We live in bubbles on the surface, sheltered from a planet that once nurtured us, and now... tries in every way to kill us.” Her voice wavered. “You don't understand, Anakin. You are not loyal to a single planet. Mandalorians...  _love_ Mandalore. We had a deep connection to the  _land_ beneath our feet, to what we could coax from its fields... It was  _part_ of what made us who we were. An overwhelming part.”

“If he was there, why was he so frustrated when we came to escort you to Coruscant?”

“He didn't realize what it started in me. The fighting was over— the contestants all dead. I led my people to peace, and he watched with stars in his eyes. And then he and Qui-Gon left.” Tears choked Satine's voice. “He didn't watch survivors of the blast crawl along the ground, flesh sloughing off them. So unrecognizable, we couldn't tell which army they'd come from. Their tongues too destroyed for them to tell us. I discovered that it didn't...  _matter..._ what side they had been on.  _No_ -one won. You could almost tell yourself the adults deserved it. But the  _children_ ...”

Anakin looked away, uncomfortable with witnessing her pain.

“So yes. By the time he returned to Mandalore, I was different. I decided  _never again._ And unless my people changed just about  _everything_ , they would slip back into old patterns. I built a city of glass. I gave them colleges, encouraged them to learn things other than how to kill and torture most efficiently. I aimed them towards rebuilding. Towards art. Towards unity. Obi-Wan returned, thought he'd find... I don't know what he thought he'd find. Probably his old Satine, only slightly less murderous. He wasn't expecting total abstinence from violence.”

“And... he'd become a General in an army in a war where both sides wanted to pay your people to fight.”  
Satine huffed out another harsh laugh, this one just a bit more gentle than the one prior. “Our situations almost reversed. It felt... like a parody. Or a... I don't know.” She sighed. “But he adjusted. He figured out why I had changed, what I had changed to, and he once again accepted it. And then he worked  _hard_ to make sure Mandalore  _wasn't_ brought into the war. To keep Republic forces off our planet. To protect my choice for neutrality, even though he didn't agree.  _Manda_ , I love that man.”

Anakin considered for a long moment, and then realized she was right. Obi-Wan had verbally fought with her... and then...  _not._ He'd stood by her decisions, helped unravel the plot to discredit her before the Senate, had transferred proof that would keep the Republic out of Mandalore— an intervention  _he believed_ should take place— to Padmé.

_He went against his own judgment in the matter to ensure Satine could carry out hers._

“I don't understand,” Anakin said, voice soft. “He struggled to accept the pacifist. So why, if you explain, would he reject you now? You are still the woman he... loves. And it's not like he hasn't heard about the... more...  _exotic_ ... aspects of your culture.”  
Satine threw him a look that betrayed a flash of amusement at his choice of words.

“He thinks nothing could sway you from that position, but something swayed you  _to_ it. Once you explain to him why you changed your mind—”

“I _didn't_.” She looked him full in the face. “I met pain with aggression, and— I didn't sit down, decide my former path was irrational or that for the good of _something_ I must return. You know what it's like. The need to destroy.”  
Anakin jolted, eyes wide as he took a step away from her. “I don't know what you mean.”  
“Anakin.” She sent him a knowing look. “You didn't want to find peace with the Yuuzhan Vong. You wanted to destroy them all. And it's not the first time you've reacted that way. It _marks_ you. And a member of your own kind will see it in an instant.”  
“What about Obi-Wan?” he asked, voice hoarse.

A tender smile crossed Satine's face. “He has never experienced pure aggression. Oh, he's experienced anger. The need for revenge. It was something he struggled over with Maul. Losing Qui-Gon...” she sighed. “To be honest, that's another thing that settled me in my ways. That news... I lost my father to age-old hatreds over ideologies and family feuds. And then Obi-Wan lost his to similar insanity. I was  _done_ losing people that way. I didn't want Korkie to live that. But that doesn't mean... I didn't  _miss.._ . certain aspects.”

“Alright. So maybe you didn't think about it. But you clearly have  _since_ . And you took steps to protect Mandalore from yourself. Not to mention the fact that by helping Obi-Wan towards something less... kill-the-infidel, you've probably saved countless lives. Sure, you would have done it  _without_ that, but if  _that_ version of him ever escaped... blood would have been shed. A lot of it. I think  _he_ will think that means something, even if you don't.”  
She didn't respond.

After a long moment, Anakin offered, “When you spoke of justice over revenge... it didn't sound like that's what you  _used_ to think. You didn't sound like you wanted to go tearing off and kill your father's murderer.”

“Murder? Oh, it wasn't murder, any more than Qui-Gon's death was. It was a fair fight. He just lost.” Satine looked up, then realized that hadn't been the point of the statement. “You're right. It's... it's strange.”

“Obi-Wan was a Jedi... and now he's a Yuuzhan Vong. We're wanting him to find a way to be willing to share. You were Mando, and then you were a pacifist... maybe it's time for you to share.”

Satine watched his face for several long seconds, and then some of the weight seemed to lift off her shoulders. “You've become so wise.”

Anakin blushed.

Humor should be able to deflect the fact that he was still a bit uncomfortable with the possessiveness he could sense in her pride in him.

“So, I guess I need to prepare myself that if Obi-Wan dies, you'll want to dig through the body to rip out a bone to whittle into a keepsake.”

“Someone as important to me as he is? I'm going to need his whole fripping skull to hang from my ceiling,” she corrected, no amusement in her eyes.

Anakin gaped at her, speechless.

And then she laughed, slapping her thigh-armor. “Should have  _seen_ your face.  _Manda_ are you people gullible. We left headhunting behind nearly fifty years ago. I wasn't even born yet.”

Still chuckling, she walked back inside the palace.

_Fifty years. That's hilarious. Her sense of humor is..._

_That_ was  _a joke, right?_

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan sat in a corner, trying not to look at the _not-his_ hand. Trying to ignore the fact that he had to keep his feet several centimeters out from his body, or he would skewer his thighs with his ankle spikes.

Trying to ignore the warm creature sunk into his head that pulsed with its own circulatory system.

It was very,  _very_ difficult to ward off the panic that wanted to fling him against the transparent wall.

And everything,  _everything_ hurt.

He didn't dare sleep, even though exhaustion made it difficult to string two thoughts together.

If he went under...

_What if it's not me who comes back?_

He shivered, his body feverish.

Silently cursing Thrawn kept his mind busy for what felt like hours, but even with Obi-Wan's serious creativity and impressive collection of languages, he eventually ran out of fresh options.

And repeating himself would be... ridiculous.

Most Basic-speaking beings behaved as if their total cursing vocabulary consisted of five words. The root word in present and past tenses, the root word as an adjective, an adverb, and then again with a parental component.

Pathetic. Really,  _really_ pathetic.

And he might be broken,  _destroyed—_

But at least he wasn't  _pathetic._

A near-silent step brought his head up and he found Thrawn walking to meet him. “Master Kenobi.”  
Obi-Wan glared up at him.

He had so little control left.

To speak at  _all_ would be to give Thrawn something to hold on to. Something to use.

No.

He was  _not_ going to give him that satisfaction. He'd been silent for hours, keeping his ravings in his head.

He could take it a little longer.

Let Thrawn work his way out of this one  _without_ help.

“I have just one more question for you before I turn you over to your friends.”

Obi-Wan sent him a dirty look.

Of course he wanted  _more._

But Obi-Wan refused to let go of his tiny hold of control over the conversation.

“What was Lorana Jinzler's lightsaber made of?”

 

* * *

 

“Take care of him.”

“You know I will.”

Ahsoka nodded. “Promise?”  
“I promise. I'm not leaving him this time.”

Ahsoka took one last look at her former Master's face. “I'll call when I can, but the likelihood is we'll be out of communication range.”

“You be smart, alright? Don't let him strand you somewhere.”

Ahsoka smiled, appreciating how hard it was for Anakin to just stand by and watch her leave with Thrawn.

It was likely that she and Anakin Skywalker would never fully agree on the Chiss Admiral.

“There's a datapad in the observation room with some suggestions Thrawn had for when you go after Palpatine.”

Anakin frowned. “Ah—  _no._ That would take me away from Obi-Wan.”

Ahsoka simply smiled at him, thinking of the timeline Thrawn had offered her. Yep. Refusal came first. Check.

_It will be there when he needs it._

“Go, Ahsoka. We're going to be fine.”  
She sent him a scolding glance. “Last time I left, everything went to complete kark.”

“Yeah.” Anakin's eyes darkened. “And when you came back, the tide began to turn in our favor. So make sure you come back. Don't die out there. Just remember that Thrawn doesn't care about you.”

Ahsoka chuckled. “He doesn't care about  _anybody_ , Anakin.” She gave him a quick hug. “Palpatine and Maul are... not likely to be interested in leaving you be, once they figure out the Yuuzhan Vong aren't the end-game threat anymore. Use the time you've got.”

“We will. I caught Satine studying galactic maps earlier, placing markers all over Coruscant.”

_Now that's a mind-battle I wish I wasn't going to miss._

It was easy to think it, would have been easy to say it...

But the truth was, Ahsoka  _was_ tired of war.

As she settled herself into the co-pilot's chair, she sent one last smile out the window.

_This is their place._

_And mine is out there somewhere._

_Let's go find it._

 

* * *

 

Thrawn felt the old, old ache return. It had a strange anguish to it now, which made very little sense.

It should be  _easing,_ since he was  _finally_ able to go hunt for Thrass.

He wouldn't stop until he'd found his brother, or his corpse.

When had he started placing the dead body option  _second_ ?

He thought of Obi-Wan's answer.

The Jedi hadn't understood what Thrawn was up to, but he was clever enough to realize that if they found Outbound Flight, and Jedi still  _lived..._

He'd been very helpful.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a resilient man.

It would be interesting to see where he ended up, if Thrawn survived the hunt for Thrass long enough to return to civilization to hear future news.

Until then, he had trajectories.

 

* * *

 

The three of them walked down a broad boulevard.

Obi-Wan in the middle.

His movements were stiff and full of pain, but he'd been unable to  _relax._

So the more diversions the better.

So Satine had decreed.

Anakin had stayed away as Satine went to speak with Obi-Wan about her current worldview. He'd even managed to draw Thrawn and Ahsoka away from the observation room.

He had no idea what had happened.

All he knew was that the maniacal gleam was gone from Obi-Wan's eyes, replaced by a weary, sober dread.

There was so much that could be said, yet words would have felt... pointless, somehow.

The three of them, the only living things on this entire planet.

The shadow of death had fallen, and no other shadows moved.

“How is the pain?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan sent him a weary attempt at a smile. “It's... not  _my_ body anymore.” The loss that whispered through his Master's voice gutted Anakin. “I'm a guest. It appears that the more polite I am, the kinder they are to me. The pain is... almost gone.”

“Do you think we should return it soon, as a sign of good faith?” Satine asked.

_A belief framed as a question._ Anakin looked to Obi-Wan again.

The look of hopelessness was so difficult to witness. “Yes— you're right—” He reached up to run a hand through his hair, realized the hand wasn't... he let it fall back to his side again. “I fear what he may do. Last time he was in control I apparently lost a hand.”

Anakin winced. “Thrawn said that happened when you... unfolded. Apparently your Shapers didn't plan on you keeping it, so they weakened the integrity of the bone structure over the duration of your Shaping. You sort of left it behind when you stood up.”

A slight shudder ran through Obi-Wan's thin form, but he didn't respond.

“I know surrendering control is infinitely difficult for you,” Satine murmured, moving to stand in front of him, forcing him to stand still. “Especially in light of current events.”  
“Every time I see you, it will be with the knowledge I have to be dragged under again.”

“He voiced dread of the same thing.” Satine placed her palm against his cheek, smiled as he leaned into it, his eyelids closing.

_Certain things don't change,_ Anakin thought.

“What if the other me... makes a pass at you?”

Amusement lit Satine's eyes. “You very nearly did, when I first met your Yuuzhan Vong self. It was all I could do to walk out that door.”

Anakin felt his face go red and he moved several steps away, turning to look out at the dead scenery.

“ _Satine,_ ” Obi-Wan groaned in humiliation. “Can you lock me up and stay away—?”

“His code isn't yours,” she pointed out.

Anakin could hear the panic return to his voice. “And that is just the point. It's not just  _this_ , but  _everything—_ from further mutilating this form to murder to anything and  _everything_ , we aren't  _compatible._ How can I hand over control to someone who will disregard my every belief when he has my body?”

“Oh, my jetii. He feels the same way. He just has different concerns to yours. You must both choose to trust... or there will only be war.”

Obi-Wan's voice shivered as he spoke. “I am so tired of struggle.”

“I know. I know, love. You will find rest as you let go.  _Both_ of you will.”

Anakin glanced back, saw grief in Obi-Wan's face, etched in his eyes—

“Please, just... tell him you are off limits.”

Compassion flooded Satine's eyes. “I'll make sure he knows how you feel about it.”

Obi-Wan gave a nod against her hand, then closed his eyes and leaned into it one last time.

A shiver ran through his body...

And when the eyes opened again, they were the same, only...

_Different, somehow._

The instant he saw Satine, a smile lit his face. “Where are we?”  
“Out for a walk,” she explained.

He squinted up at the sun, pulling away from her hand to do so. “Not much time has passed?”  
“No.”

For a long time the Yuuzhan Vong stood, looking thoughtful. “He let me return.”  
“Yes. He did.”

Obi-Wan gave her a nod. “I think we can find symbiosis.”  
“So do I.” She smiled at him.  
Anakin was trying to work his way around a lump in his throat.

He  _knew_ his Obi-Wan would return, relatively soon, but...

It still felt like watching him die.

The Yuuzhan Vong didn't seem to notice his discomfort. Instead, his gaze was captured by the empty city and the vast landscapes beyond.

Beautiful in a terrible way.

“Everything is dead,” Obi-Wan murmured.

No-one replied.

There was nothing to say.

“My people did this.”  
Anakin heard a catch in his voice.

“This is what our home looks like. What the droids did to it. Destroyed all life. Were there unique life-forms here? Ones found nowhere else?”

“There usually are, from planet to planet.” Satine's expression turned grim.

_Is she thinking of Mandalore? How many of their creatures and plants went extinct in the blast she spoke of?_

_How much was lost?_

“How could my people so thoroughly destroy life that Yun Yuuzhan sacrificed himself to create?” Obi-Wan whispered. “How are we any different from the droids we detest?”

“The priests led us astray,” Satine murmured back. “They betrayed us, and the trust the gods put in them to guide us. From now on, we will need to guide ourselves.”

“That would mean interpreting the codex on our own.” Obi-Wan turned wide eyes to her.

“What would the gods prefer? A people who seek them from love, or for us to follow lies? Lies that lead here?” Satine looked out at the desolation. “We cannot just assume we are being told the truth anymore. We have to find it ourselves.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I suppose that means the Force  _does_ exist.”  
Anakin stared at him. “What?”

“The Force is never mentioned in the codex,” Satine explained. “And the priests have told us repeatedly that if something is not  _in_ the codex, it is a lie.”  
Anakin walked the several steps back to rejoin them. “I wonder... Obi-Wan. This body can connect with the Force in a very visible way. The fact that your Jedi self couldn't, when with the Shapers, was because they found some way to inhibit you. Something the symbionts are doing break the connection.”

Obi-Wan watched him in silence, waiting for Anakin to make his point.

“I think— the Jedi returned the body to you sooner than he wanted to, as a gesture of faith. Maybe... if you could communicate with the symbionts... perhaps convince them to allow him to feel the Force next time...” Anakin felt his heart clench. “It's been a long time since I sensed his presence.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, the gesture that  _only_ the Yuuzhan Vong seemed to possess. “You miss it.”  
“It hurts. The emptiness where he used to be,” Anakin admitted. “If the Force  _does_ exist, does that not mean that the yunne created it too?”

Obi-Wan considered.

Finally, he nodded.

“I think I know what it is that is confounding your Jedi. I will see what I can do.”  
Anakin reached out, gripped his shoulder. “ _Thank you._ ”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Guide:
> 
> Beskar (Pronounced /BESK-gar/) = Mandalorian Iron. Lightsaber resistant.
> 
> Hut'uun (Pronounced /hoo-TOON/) = Coward. The worst possible insult.
> 
> Buir (Pronounced /boo-ear/) = Parent/ Father
> 
> Jetii (Pronounced /JAY-tee/) = Jedi


	13. Chapter 13

 

Anakin braced himself as Obi-Wan tried to reach out to the Force.

Satine stood in the doorway to the cockpit, arms crossed, helmet on the floor by her feet.

Obi-Wan, lying on the floor, just in case, shook his head. “It's not  _ there,  _ Anakin. How am I supposed to  _ find  _ it when it's always just been  _ there _ ?”

“Both your head and your body have been rearranged. Maybe... you're not looking in the right place?”  
“My brain isn't a  _ library  _ where one could just move the different sections around,” Obi-Wan grumbled.

Satine harrumphed. “It actually  _ might  _ be. The research on this side of the galaxy is headed in a very different direction than Yuuzhan Vong... and  _ we  _ certainly can't accomplish a good many of the things they routinely do. Clearly they're on to  _ something,  _ whether  _ we  _ can explain it yet or not.”

Anakin sent her an amazed glance, baffled by the vitriol in her voice. “What—?”

“Don't get her started,” Obi-Wan groaned. “She has... problems... with scientists—”

Anakin blinked. “But don't scientists give them their new, ever fancier weapons? And aren't Mandalorians obsessed with tech?”

“It's not  _ science  _ I have a problem with,” Satine explained. “It's scien _ tists. _ It's their arrogance. If something doesn't make sense to them given the very limited understanding of the universe  _ right this minute,  _ they feel free to mock it to shame. As if they will never discover another current-understanding-shattering natural law. They're too quick to say  _ impossible _ and mock people for imagining. Especially when a few thousand years from now everything these scientists know is going to be obsolete. A little humility would be nice.”

“That's  _ rich,  _ coming from  _ you.  _ Given Mandalorians are usually so humble.” Obi-Wan rubbed at his forehead.

“It's the arrogance and belief they're  _ better  _ than mere  _ non _ -scientists that leads to atrocities like Demagol—”

Obi-Wan scowled at Anakin. “Now you've done it.”

“Are you guys seriously going to fight?  _ Now _ ?”

“—and  _ you,  _ of all people, should care about  _ that.  _ He experimented on Jedi  _ too.  _ And I may be the only Mando you're ever going to meet who  _ cares  _ about  _ that part. _ ”

“Let  _ go  _ of Demagol already!”

“I don't even know who the hell that is, but Obi-Wan needs  _ calm  _ to be able to search for the Force. So can we just please drop it for now—?” Anakin pleaded. “Unless Satine leaves us, I'm sure you two will have  _ plenty  _ of time to fight. And speaking of, did you fight all the time back when Qui-Gon was around?”

“ _ Yes, _ ” both snapped back at him.

For a long moment there was silence, and then Satine quirked a bit of a smile. “He thought it hilarious. And once, after attempting Mando alcohol for the first time—”

“ _ Don't, _ ” Obi-Wan warned “ _ Don't  _ go there.”  
The gleam in her eyes turned wicked. “I warned him it's stronger than he was probably anticipating— a  _ lot  _ stronger—”

“You  _ know  _ that just goaded him  _ forward— _ ”

“He said our 'bickering' was 'adorable.'”

Anakin's brain glitched as it tried to put the massive Jedi Master he'd known for a short while into the picture Satine had painted.

“I'm glad  _ you  _ found it hilarious, but you're not the one who had to  _ live  _ with him for the next several years—!”

“ _ Enough. _ Okay? Last time you were this tense, you needed to  _ do  _ something, right Satine? So...”

“There isn't much to  _ hunt  _ on this ship except for Obi-Wan _. _ ”

Obi-Wan stared at her, clearly stunned she'd  _ admitted  _ it.

“Alright. I can understand that,” Anakin bluffed, “but for the next standard hour, Obi-Wan is off limits. Hunt something else.”  _ And oh  _ Force  _ please let it not be me. _

“We're in hyperspace. In my ship. Not a single creature breathes unless I've allowed it.”

Obi-Wan started to huff something inflammatory, but Anakin grabbed his shoulder and talked loudly over the top of him, hoping Satine wouldn't notice.

“We understand this is your territory. And I swear that once we're on the ground again, we'll let you hunt  _ something.  _ I appreciate that you could hunt us, and that there's nothing to compel you to  _ not. _ ”

Her eyes were staring into his now, unblinking and—

_ Yeah. She's definitely scarier than Yuuzhan Vong Obi-Wan. _

Anakin suppressed his instinctive shiver, knowing she would see it, perhaps  _ feel  _ it—

_ She's learned to transfer her aggression into words instead of violence. But I need to move  _ us  _ out of the prey category into something else, or this is going to be a very uncomfortable trip. _

He'd seen her verbally terrorize Obi-Wan before. He always fought back and it never turned out pretty.

“Buir, please,” he murmured. “Help him.”

In an instant, the tension fled from her muscles, and her eyes seemed to refocus on his face.

Anakin felt Obi-Wan go very still beneath his hand.

Still, Satine didn't blink.

When she spoke, the edge of a predator was gone, and in its place was a warm, protective guard.

As if they had managed to get locked out of her defensive shield, and had suddenly been brought inside to receive shelter.

Nothing had changed about her.

Just their position  _ with  _ her.

“Are you sure that hyperspace will guard our position from the Sith, An'ika?”

_ Ani... what? _

He was still struggling with the fact that he'd just called this woman  _ Mom _ .

_ It's different. And I was justified. I needed her assistance. _

But it still bothered him. Deeply.

“Palpatine and Maul are likely to know. Especially Maul. But hyperspace will make it difficult for them to get a good sense of direction. Especially since Obi-Wan and I don't know where you've set course to.”

“We can keep this up until we run out of fuel. And kom'rk-class ships don't run out quickly.” There was a hint of pride in her voice.

“Then we're as hidden as we can be for now.”

Anakin saw the discontent flit across her face, and wondered what caused it.  _ Is she nervous? It's the three of us against two different Sith agendas, and we still have to dodge the Yuuzhan Vong until their revolution is settled? If she does feel anxiety, I bet she responds violently. _

How could she  _ not _ ? This Satine seemed to respond to  _ everything  _ that way.

_ That would explain why she's on edge and harassing Obi-Wan. She's worried, and that makes her want to launch into a preemptive strike against our enemies. And she can't yet. _

If  _ that  _ was what was going on...

“Have you figured out who we should go after first?” Anakin asked. “Maul or Sidious?”

Relief spilled through her eyes and into the Force around her. “I want to pit them against one another, then steal the house while they're distracted.”

“Did you have a look at the datapad Thrawn left?”

Satine's eyes widened. “He left something?”

“Yeah. It's in the cockpit.”

In an instant she was through the door and gone.

“What did you just do?” Obi-Wan murmured.

Anakin smiled down at him. “What you would have done if you could think clearly when she's in the room. Try to get inside her head and figure out how to work  _ with  _ her instead of  _ against  _ her. Now—”

“You short-circuited her attack.” Obi-Wan sent him a knowing look. “You called her buir.”

“I'm trying not to think about that right now.”

“Just because she sees you as her son doesn't mean you have to—”

“You're stalling. Let's try for the Force again.”

Anger flashed across Obi-Wan's face. “Why do you think I'm prevaricating?” he demanded. “Because I don't  _ want  _ to find it? Don't be an idiot, Anakin! It's not  _ there _ . You seem to think that if I  _ try  _ hard enough I'll  _ find  _ something— but there's nothing  _ to  _ find! It's been torn  _ out  _ of my mind, and the emptiness  _ burns—  _ I have been deprived for  _ so long _ , and you want to tell me it's  _ my  _ problem that I'm suffering this pain? That if I just had enough  _ tenacity— _ ”

Darkness lunged to meet Obi-Wan, and suddenly the Force surged through him, the walls of the ship around them creaking, the light overhead shuddering and going out—

Anything not bolted to the floor or walls rose in the air, tremoring—

Warning sirens went off in the cockpit and Satine swore viciously with words Anakin couldn't translate, but felt the impact of—

The floorplates beneath them twisted, revealing wires and couplings—

“ _ Obi-Wan— _ ” Anakin warned, for the first time in  _ so long  _ feeling his Master's presence in his mind, but it was... twisted.  _ Wrong.  _ Something vile and terrible—

And then everything crashed to the floor, and the room fell still around them.

And Anakin could no longer sense his Master in the Force.

The sudden loss was like a kick in the gut, and Anakin's mind reeled. He desperately clung to Obi-Wan's shoulder,  _ forcing  _ himself to breathe—

Obi-Wan was not  _ dead,  _ he could see his Master breathing, see the now-frantic pulse in his neck—

It only  _ felt  _ like he'd lost him.

_ We're okay. We're okay,  _ he promised himself, unable to still the trembling in his limbs.

Obi-Wan's face drained of all color, and horror lit up his eyes. “Anakin—?”

“It's okay, it's okay,” Anakin soothed, his voice shaking. “You're okay.”

Obi-Wan pulled away from him, retreating to a far corner of the room. “No. I—”

Anakin followed.

“What color are my eyes?” Obi-Wan whispered.

Oh, that  _ hurt. _

“Blue, Obi-Wan. It's okay.  _ I promise.  _ You haven't fallen—”

Lost, agonized eyes met his. “Then why can't I find the light? Why can I only connect to the dark?” He shuddered. “It's like Zigoola, all over again.”

“Zigoola?” Anakin held his breath.

His Master had always refused to talk about that mission with him. At first, he managed to dodge the issue by using Ahsoka. Can't talk about that in front of the Padawan.

And later... once Ahsoka had left the Order...

_ I gave up trying to find out. I was too focused on  _ me  _ at the end of the war. _

Obi-Wan stared up at him, the panic in his face palpable. “On Zigoola, I could touch the Force, but I could only find the dark. It crawled through my blood. It stole my mind. It—  _ Anakin— _ ”

“Who did that to my ship?” growled a voice from the door. “Anakin, you'd better pray to all your Tatooinian gods it was Obi-Wan, because—”

“It was Obi-Wan,” Anakin interrupted.

“Because if  _ you _ even  _ think  _ of doing something like that to my ship, there will be war.”

Obi-Wan didn't seem to hear her. “ _ Anakin. _ ”

“It clearly worked, so what's wrong?” Near-silent footfalls brought Satine to Anakin's side.

“The light was  _ gone— _ ”

“It's harder to find now,” Anakin countered, “but it's still there. Remember? We found the light after Order Sixty-Six. We  _ did.  _ We'll find it again.”  
“ _ I— _ ”

“If you reached for the Force and found darkness, it means you were focused on yourself. How you were wronged.”

Anakin turned his head to stare at the former Duchess. “What?”

“That's how it works,” she asserted. “You cannot access the dark if you are acting selflessly, it's physically impossible, and the same is true the other way. You physically  _ cannot  _ access the light if you are acting selfishly.”

“How did— how could you— Obi-Wan?”

Exhausted eyes met his. “She's right, Anakin.  _ Force,  _ did you listen to  _ nothing  _ I said when you were a Padawan?”

“I'm sure I heard...  _ some...  _ of it?”

“Obi-Wan.” Satine moved closer, gently took hold of his arm, and pulled him to the floor again. “What were you thinking about?”

Liquid obscured Obi-Wan's eyes, and the muscles in his jaw quivered. “How  _ long  _ it's been since I've felt the Force. How much its absence  _ hurts _ . How  _ alone  _ I feel.”

“Alright. Now. Think about  _ Anakin.  _ All of the Jedi are gone. He feels the tears in the fabric of the universe. The cold. The loneliness. He cannot sense you, so he is utterly  _ alone.  _ Do you remember how it felt when you first lost Qui-Gon?”

Obi-Wan's face went very stern. An expression Anakin used to think meant he  _ didn't  _ feel, and now he knew meant he was trying to make sense of what he  _ did  _ feel.

“That pain is what he's feeling. He can see you, but you're not  _ there. _ It's like looking at your Master's corpse.”

A soft sound, almost inaudible, at the back of Obi-Wan's throat.

“Now try again,” Satine whispered.

“I don't know where I  _ found  _ it—”

“You found it through an extreme of emotion. Anger. Desperation to relieve another being's suffering should work. Draw it up, Obi-Wan. All of that misery. How the Force felt in the wake of Order Sixty-six. How sensing Anakin kept you sane. He's  _ without  _ that anchor. You are a Jedi. You cannot stand by and just watch someone suffer and do nothing.”

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in concentration.

And... nothing happened.

“You're not desperate enough. You're  _ thinking.  _ You didn't find it by  _ thinking. _ ”

“Satine, you don't know what it's  _ like.  _ I would rather  _ not  _ feel the Force ever again than risk the dark's touch—”

“Of course you don't feel desperation. With your Padawan standing there looking strong and enduring.”

_ So... what? I'm supposed to look miserable, and that will help? _

Anakin twisted his face into what he thought grief should look like—

Obi-Wan winced.

Satine glanced up at the younger Jedi and her jaw dropped. “Sweet Manda. You weren't kidding back during the Rako Hardeen thing. I apologize for the punch.”

Anakin lost his hold on what was a very  _ good  _ portrayal,  _ thankyouverymuch _ . “You...  _ punched  _ him? But you were still a pacifist at the time!”

Obi-Wan cringed again. “More than once.”

“No. I  _ kneed  _ your groin. Then I hit your face while your guard was lowered.”

“The broken nose,” Obi-Wan admitted in response to Anakin's wide eyes. “You caught me when I was getting it set.”

_ Oh.  _ “I remember that. When I insisted you tell me, you threw some dumb line...  _ I don't want to talk about it; if you keep pushing me, you're going to get a lie, and I was under the impression you'd had  _ enough  _ of those, _ I think it was. I stormed out.”

“You weren't the only angry one,” Obi-Wan mumbled.

“You two are hopeless.” Satine sighed. “And definitely not desperate enough.

She flicked her fingers and the world went red.

Anakin screamed as knives drove into his eyes, a pain  _ so bad— _

“ _ Satine, _ ” Obi-Wan growled. “Flush his eyes out.”

“Oh. You thought I  _ had  _ an eyeflush? Of course I don't. If you want to ease his pain, the Force is going to have to be used. And Anakin has no healing talent.”

“You  _ told her that _ ?” Anakin shrieked, clawing at his face, dimly realizing he was writhing on the floor. He'd  _ never  _ felt agony like  _ this  _ before _ — _

“She wasn't lethal at the time!” Obi-Wan wailed. “Satine,  _ please— _ ”

“Oh, well, if you're not interested in  _ helping,  _ I guess it's a good thing he's Force-sensitive. Being blind shouldn't be too big of a problem.”

“ _ Blind _ ?” Full-blown panic seized Anakin, driving away everything but the excruciating sensations—

“Relax, sweetheart. It won't  _ actually  _ blind you. But thank you for that spike of terror. You'll just experience pain for the next twenty-six standard hours until your body purges it naturally. I'm sure you've endured worse.”

_ No.  _ This  _ had  _ to be a lie  _ too— _

Force,  _ please  _ let it be a  _ lie— _

Twenty-six?

He choked, struggling to hold in the sounds escaping his mouth, he had to settle in for the  _ long  _ haul, apparently—

And then he heard something that sounded like a body being thrown—

And then hands were over his eyes.

“Hold  _ still _ ,” Obi-Wan ground out.

Anakin  _ tried,  _ but—

And then another pair of hands were holding him down. He thrashed out at her, distinctly  _ un _ -Jedi emotions crashing through him. “Don't  _ touch  _ me! You're  _ crazy _ !”

She tightened her hold, now employing pressure points.

He finally submitted with a whimper, feeling Obi-Wan draw the dust from his eyes—

A lifetime later, he found himself sitting on the floor, liquid streaming from his eyes, blinking over eyeballs that  _ still  _ hurt but at least he could  _ see— _

“You weren't going to go blind,” Obi-Wan said gently. “It was a temporarily incapacitating powder.”

“You still sounded panicked.”

“I didn't  _ know  _ for sure until I started working on it.”

“Force, Obi-Wan,” Anakin growled. “ _ How  _ did you fall in love with  _ that _ ?”

“She needed me desperate. For that she needed you desperate. It  _ worked,  _ didn't it?”

Anakin glared up at him in disbelief. “You _ need help _ !”

“He's right about one thing. Satine, that was  _ very  _ cruel.”

“You're connected to the Force again?” Satine asked.

Anakin stopped focusing on his eyes and realized the empty agony in the back of his brain was gone.

Obi-Wan was  _ there. _ That softly glowing light that refused to dim.

Not a hint of darkness to be found.

“It was still excessive, Satine.”  
“He's not permanently damaged, and the pain lasted under fifteen minutes. I'm afraid I'm not going to be apologizing to either of you. But if it makes him feel any better, I'd be willing to put some in  _ my  _ eyes—”

Anakin scowled at her. “ _ No.  _ That's not going to  _ help.  _ Force. You'd put that in your  _ own  _ eyes just to make a  _ point _ ? What is  _ wrong  _ with you!”

“I'm not trying to play by society's rules anymore,” she explained calmly. “I became fairly decent at hiding, but I don't have to hide anymore.”

Anakin caught her swift glance at Obi-Wan, was shocked to find just a little hurt in her eyes.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I know. I know. I should have expected it, I'm sorry.”

Anakin shook his head. “I would  _ like  _ to know that I'm not going to suffer pain like that without warning when in her presence. It makes relaxing and  _ trust  _ rather  _ difficult. _ ”

“Then don't ever let her make you dinner.”

“Very funny,” Anakin mumbled, swiping at his eyes one last time with his hand.

Obi-Wan's voice took on an urgent note. “That wasn't a joke, Anakin. Mandalorians pride themselves on the pain inflicted on the mouth. The worse it is, the better it's considered. You wouldn't believe how many words their language possesses to describe the subtleties of it.”

“Yeah, well. Fortunately I can handle spicy food.” Anakin pulled himself to his feet and edged away from the Mandalorian.

Obi-Wan turned helpless eyes to his love. “Why does he never heed my warnings?”

“He has to find his own way,” Satine offered, extending a hand to help him stand.

Anakin watched in surprise as Obi-Wan reached out his hand and placed it against the side of her face. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you, thank you.”

The distant, emotionless expression she'd been wearing melted into something that resembled worry. “You don't—?”

“Don't what? I see what you did. I see why you did it. I see how your mind went from the first point to the second, and I see that I am no longer alone... and neither is Anakin. I  _ see _ .”

_ Yeah...  _ but _... how you  _ get  _ there is— _

“I love you,” she whispered.

His eyes gentled, and his hand left her face, instead catching her own metal-covered hand. He pressed a kiss to it with a fervor that stunned Anakin.

Her eyes sparkled, and when she glanced back at Anakin, it looked like she hadn't a care in the world. “There are some systems that could still use repair after Obi-Wan's... Force accident. Perhaps you'd like to fix them so you can sort some things out in that brain of yours? I'll be in the hold.  _ Not  _ eavesdropping _. _ ” She took Obi-Wan's hand and dropped a small device into his palm.

And then she sashayed out of the room.

Obi-Wan watched her go, a soft smile lighting his face.

“What is that?” Anakin asked pointedly.

Obi-Wan closed his fingers over the device. “Her link to the ship. The one that allows her to access the surveillance equipment.”

“Do you actually  _ believe  _ she's going to leave us in  _ peace _ ?”  _ How did she know I work things through by fixing machinery? Did Obi-Wan tell her  _ that  _ too? _

“She lies to me less often than you do,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Though she seems to have not decided to afford you the same courtesy quite yet.”

“I can't believe you can be so  _ calm  _ and  _ accepting  _ after what she just did to me.” Anakin scowled, stomping into the cockpit. “That was really  _ something _ , Master.”

Obi-Wan followed him with a sigh. “It's what she  _ is,  _ Anakin. There was no malice—”

“It's like—  _ peppermist!  _ She practically sprayed  _ peppermist  _ in my eyes! You do that to people who are  _ attacking  _ you in a dark alley.  _ Not  _ friends, and  _ certainly  _ not  _ family. _ ”  
Obi-Wan made a noise of potential dissent. “Maybe not in Tatooine culture, no, and maybe not in Jedi culture. Or in  _ most  _ cultures in the galaxy that you've come in contact with—”

“She said she  _ emasculated  _ a man when she was  _ nine years old _ !” Anakin hissed. “Like it was  _ nothing.  _ She took her  _ best friend's  _ dismembered body and turned it into a  _ weapon  _ she looks at  _ fondly.  _ She said you  _ helped  _ her carve up her  _ father's  _ body—”

Obi-Wan waited in silence for Anakin to finish.

Anakin yanked the panel beneath the dash open and lay down on the floor so he could reach up into the mess of singed wires.

“And, unless she was completely fripping with me, headhunting was  _ still  _ happening recently.  _ Was  _ she fripping with me?”

“Ah— no. Not with that. Everything you just said is true. Though carrying skulls around is inconvenient, so they usually settle for bone shards or scalps.”

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

Anakin squinted up at Obi-Wan in disbelief. “How can you say something like that so calmly? What? Are they cannibals too?”  
“Define that. There are sentient species that aren't human who—” Obi-Wan let out a growl as he saw Anakin's sneer. “I'm not saying it's  _ right _ !”

“Really? Because if it's something Satine's done, then it's okay.”

“For the love of  _ Force,  _ Anakin! Don't you get it? She's not an aberration in  _ her culture.  _ Just in  _ yours.  _ Among her own people she was persecuted for being  _ too— _ ” he searched for a word.

“ _ Civilized _ ?” Anakin offered. “Obi-Wan, these people sound like they're... in the  _ early stages  _ of development! They've figured out  _ speech  _ and how to  _ kill  _ and then were handed weapons of  _ mass destruction! _ ”

“That is  _ exactly what happened _ !” Obi-Wan thundered back. “ _ All  _ of their 'progress' has come through the weapons angle. They weren't sent  _ teachers  _ or  _ translators  _ or  _ help  _ of any sort. They weren't offered classes in hygiene and disease-control. Nobody  _ helped them.  _ When they were discovered, they were recognized to be warriors of the strongest caliber, the  _ best  _ the universe had ever seen. It's in their  _ blood,  _ Anakin. They can't  _ help  _ but fight. It consumes them, it's all they can think about. Their society has  _ always  _ advanced weapons-first. Other things trickled down later.  _ Clothing.  _ Force. That was a problem two decades ago with Satine.”

“I'm sure that was a real trial for you.”

Anakin felt Obi-Wan's barely-contained wrath.

But his Master  _ did  _ contain it.

Took a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was calm again.

“You think they are barbarians.”

“They  _ are _ . For Force' sake, Obi-Wan. Listen to yourself.  _ No clothes _ ,  _ headhunting, cannibalism _ , and then they were handed flamethrowers and bombs? Whose bright idea was that?”

“It's a vicious cycle, Anakin, and one the Sith were happy to exploit. The Mandalorians in ancient times fell in love with weapons. And they already loved war. Fight for money so they can purchase better weapons. Do you have any idea how many of them died from  _ simple,  _ preventable causes? How many millions, over the years, died of  _ dehydration  _ while suffering from dysentery because nobody thought to tell them that they should clean their hands after taking a kark? Or that the fevers that plagued their people were transmitted by the blood-gnats? That with simple precautions the deaths caused  _ that  _ way could be dropped to almost  _ non-existent _ ?”

“There's no excuse  _ now, _ ” Anakin growled. “Even four thousand years ago, there should have been no excuse. Force, Obi-Wan.  _ Longer  _ than that, they've been  _ all over the universe,  _ seeing  _ everything. _ ”

“You seem a little shocked by all of this.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Did you watch any of those ridiculous holodramas where Mandalorians are portrayed as a warrior-people with a simpler lifestyle focused around family and honor and tradition? Where everything about them is... admirable, and their culture is held up as the epitome of what it is to be a decent human being?”

“Everybody's seen those.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “They're false. Don't get me wrong. There are  _ beautiful  _ elements to the Mando culture. But a lot of that is romanticized. Heavily. They kept all of the— to the rest of the galaxy—  _ appealing  _ aspects of tribal life and ignored everything that might be seen as primitive. You don't have one without the other— nothing is ever so simple.”

“But that's just  _ it,  _ Obi-Wan. From what both you  _ and  _ she have been saying, her people are  _ primitives  _ with terrifying firepower.”

Anakin could sense sadness whispering about Obi-Wan in the Force.

_ Why is he sad? _

“Anakin... have you not seen how loyal Satine is? How considerate? How  _ compassionate _ ?”

Anakin thought of the dislocated shoulder, of her gentle soothing towards Obi-Wan during what  _ must  _ have been  _ the  _ discussion, back when he was fused to an alter. Thought of his own railings in comparison.

“Does she love  _ less  _ than you? Does she care less  _ deeply _ ? Is she less selfless than you?”

_ No. _

_ If anything... she might be  _ more  _ selfless. _

If Padmé had chosen to keep him physically at arms' length for eighteen-plus years, it would have driven him mad.

Satine accepted what Obi-Wan was willing to give her, and didn't resent him for what he  _ couldn't. _

A love that gave freely and demanded nothing in return.

_ In that respect, they are perfectly matched. _

“She's not deficient in any of that, Obi-Wan,” Anakin assured him, not sure when he'd become the villain who badmouthed the love of his brother's life.

“I know you spent almost no time on Mandalore, but you've  _ seen  _ what she's accomplished. They have  _ hospitals  _ now, Anakin. The average lifespan of a Mandalorian has vastly increased, and their infant mortality rate has dropped to normal human levels. And they stopped killing one another. That in itself is practically a  _ miracle.  _ The average Mandalorian now goes about their business without even thinking about slaughtering their enemies. And yet she's managed to keep elements of their culture intact. Their art, for example. She took what little they used to create, and has turned it into a focus point. Their  _ music.  _ She worked with bards and created a whole  _ new repertoire _ of melodies that were  _ intensely  _ Mandalorian, but with lyrics that drew her people to something less bloody than the warsongs of old.”

“That's  _ great,  _ Obi-Wan, but she's  _ reverted _ !”

“She hasn't let go of her  _ moral compass,  _ though. Breaking people out of thousands of years of conditioning can take radical changes that would be overkill for an average person. She chose to make those personal sacrifices so that future generations could find their own path. Maybe not hers, but something uniquely beneficial all the way around. You see someone who is violent in every breath of her body.  _ Yes.  _ She is that. But she loves. She is self-giving. And she can be reasoned with.”

“That's great, Obi-Wan,” he repeated.  _ She's a  _ tame _ primitive. I'm feeling so much better. _ ”

“Do you doubt her  _ intelligence? _ ”

Anakin considered it as he stripped one wire and bound it to another, careful to not let the metal of his hand connect to the bare ends.

She  _ had  _ been closer to keeping up with Thrawn than any of them.

“She's brilliant,” he admitted.

“If she has the emotional depth you expect in people,  _ and  _ a selfless moral compass  _ and  _ unfettered intelligence, then  _ why  _ are you still seeing her as inferior?”

“There's more to civilization than just fancy weapons!”

“Ah. Certain  _ behavioral norms _ ?”

“Well—  _ yes _ .”

“Norms set by  _ who _ ?”

“Society as a whole?” Anakin had never thought about it quite that far. Things felt right, or they  _ didn't.  _ And most of what he'd heard about Satine's life just  _ didn't. _

“She is not inferior. Not in her mind, not in her heart, and neither are the rest of her people. They weren't even  _ before  _ her sweeping reforms.”

“No, I get that, but Obi-Wan. Most people leave  _ behind  _ the tribal behaviors when they receive technology. Somehow, her people simply went along their merry  _ cavemen  _ way and just added weapons of mass destruction to the mix.”

“Most cultures when they receive technology  _ adopt  _ the culture of those who  _ brought it. _ Hers refused to.”

“Some things are just  _ necessary,  _ Obi-Wan. Like education and  _ hygiene  _ and  _ justice— _ and  _ not keeping your enemies' severed heads  _ as wall decorations! If they want to mingle with civilized cultures, they could stand to be a bit more—  _ I don't know—  _ decent?”

Obi-Wan's sadness deepened. “Why is your culture more important than hers? Because it's more prevalent? When has that ever been a good indicator to go by?”  
“Don't you mean _our_?”

“No. You never adopted Jedi culture. I'm not even truly sure you accept ours is a legitimate option.”

Anakin felt cold. “Wait, that's not what this is about.” He pulled himself out from under the console and sat up. “Obi-Wan, if you don't want to have sex with your girlfriend, it's none of my business—”

“And there is that disapproval in your signature again. I'm no longer cut off from reading it, remember.” Obi-Wan sent him a sad smile. “And I'm very familiar with what it looks like in you.”

“I— don't agree with how the Jedi did things, most of the time.”

“I'm aware.”

“And I  _really_ don't agree with this... sniper-rifle-carrying  _unevolved_ thing Satine has going on.”

Obi-Wan just watched him, pointedly silent.

“I have a right to feel that way. I have a right to think you're both  _wrong._ ”

“Yes. You do.”

Anakin blinked.

“You have to find your own path, Anakin. I realized long ago that Jedi culture was something you would never fully accept. Why do you think I tried to find ways to meet you on your ground?”

“You... did?”

Obi-Wan's eyes closed, and defeat swirled around him in the Force. “You... never noticed,” he breathed, as realization struck. His entire body sagged.

The sense of worthlessness and failure his Master felt stabbed Anakin to the quick. “Whoa, Obi-Wan, you did  _fine._ You raised me  _just fine—_ ”

“Clearly not.” Obi-Wan turned towards the door. “I clearly didn't try hard enough.”

“No,  _please_ don't go,” Anakin pleaded. “That's  _not_ true. I just... I wasn't looking for it, I guess. You  _know_ how I missed things at that age. I was a  _teenager._ Teenagers are... well... they miss things. Because they're dealing with  _really big_ things, and other stuff gets lost. Misunderstandings happen. I don't resent you or how you raised me.”

Obi-Wan paused, then shook his head. “I don't know, Anakin. Respect... I've been sensing you steadily  _lose_ it for Satine, the more you realize that her culture is vastly different from yours.”

“Didn't it bother  _you_ ? It's even more different than  _yours,_ you know.”

Obi-Wan looked back at him. “I saw her mind. I saw her heart.”

“Okay, fine. If you hadn't been in love with her—”

“I fell in love with her  _after_ I'd discovered the most glaring of the differences between us.”

Anakin didn't like the frustration he felt building in his chest. “Obi-Wan, it's... twisted. It's warped. There's something wrong. Sometimes things just... aren't good. Some things societies need to... grow  _out_ of... in order to progress.”

“Satine will be the first one to tell you that her people needed change. Needed to grow. To adapt. And she's fought for it with more  _loss_ than most people can even comprehend. Do you have any idea how closely-knit those communities were? Family was  _everything,_ and ancient feuds defined family. You held to those  _religiously,_ no matter the cost, or you were seen to be betraying family. Even before her pacifism, she was breaking against that dictate. Her family  _disowned her,_ Anakin. I don't know if you can comprehend what that would be like, but for her, it was the loss of  _everything._ ”

Anakin took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “I don't get why it's so important for me to accept this.”

“I have no interest in you becoming Mando. In fact, I'm confident  _Satine_ has no interest in turning you into one either. I think you'll find she's  _very good_ at giving people  _space_ when they need it. But she will also  _respect you_ , even if you're different and will never be able to see her lifestyle as legitimate or  _right._ ”

“I respect you, Obi-Wan. If the Jedi code works for you, then fine.”

“And Satine?”  
Anakin tried to find an answer to that, one that wouldn't make this worse. “She's... very smart. And sweet. I think. And clearly, very strong. And I can't imagine how terrible her childhood was. I think of what I was like at nine and what she was describing... Obi-Wan. Did you really help her... cut up her Father's body?”

For a long moment there was silence, and then Obi-Wan turned to fully face him. “Yes. I did.”

“Why?”  
Obi-Wan seemed to gauge his expression, looking for... what? A genuine desire to know?

“She was utterly alone. Tears streaming down her cheeks, and  _ashamed_ of them because Mandos  _don't cry._ He'd contacted us, asked to meet. We don't know why. I suspect he was going to say he forgave her, and reaffirm that he loved her in spite of their differences. Some of the things Satine's sister has said suggest she thought their father weak near the end. We will never know, because he  _died._ She loved him, Anakin. I think you can understand that. When your mother died—” he hesitated, clearly waiting for his brother to bite his head off.

And maybe Anakin would have.

Another day.

_I would have said he shouldn't talk about that, because he doesn't understand._

But Satine had likened the loss of her father to Obi-Wan's loss of Qui-Gon.

_Did he love him that much? Could they have suffered as much as I did... just each in their own way?_

_Do I really think that my way of expressing what I feel is the_ only  _way it can be properly done?_

“So yes. I knelt with her. I helped her. And I do not regret it.”

“Did you really... kiss her hands, when they had his blood on them?”

“Yes. And did I feel her heartbreak ease?  _Yes._ Suffering alongside someone can sometimes alleviate the burden, just a little. She didn't need  _words,_ Anakin. She needed  _clan._ ”

“That's a bit more than just the  _respect the local customs_ that you were always pounding into my skull.”

“At several months in, Satine was more than a local to me. And trust me, I'm not the only one who stepped out of their comfort zone when it came to... our... relationship. For her, it was less about  _doing_ something that was outside her comfort zone, and more about refraining from things she found normal.”

“Sex?”

“And only wearing clothes when she found it tactically advantageous. And murdering people when there were other options.”

“But carving up dead relatives into toothpicks is alright.”  
“Are you this unwilling to accept the Yuuzhan Vong me?”

Anakin fell silent. “Not anymore,” he finally admitted.

“What made the difference?”

“He's... well, he's... another version of you.”

“You love me, and so it's worth the effort to reach out?”

“Just tell me one thing. Did you bother to try to accept and understand Satine  _before_ you fell in love, or after?”

“Qui-Gon did. I was arrogant and foolish, and easily horrified. It was friendship that brought me around. Love came after that.”

“It wasn't love at first sight?”

Obi-Wan sent him a small, sheepish smile. “No. That was Satine. All I could see was a primitive. I looked down on her and her people. I'm afraid I was terribly offensive, even in the subtlest ways. Of course she felt it. The superiority, disdain. It's impossible to feel it and  _not_ have it end up revealing itself  _somehow._ But, despite my self-righteous confidence in my culture's deserved supremacy, she didn't return the favor. It may have taken me a while, but I finally realized that the animal-skins-wearing savage was behaving with more forgiveness and grace than  _I_ was. And then on the heels of that I discovered she was  _smarter_ than I was. And then I was dependent on her for survival, because while she might not know what  _I_ thought was necessary to a well-rounded education, she knew the land in a way that a lifetime in a classroom could never touch.”

“Different, but not less valid?”

Obi-Wan gave him a sober nod. “Did I ever make you feel your mother was something less, because  _she_ followed her own code, and not the one the Jedi hold?”

“No.”

As Obi-Wan stepped out the doorway, Anakin spoke up, one last time.

“I'm going to try, Obi-Wan. I'll try with Satine.”

Obi-Wan didn't look back, but Anakin could feel the tentative warmth in Obi-Wan's soul. A little hope.

Moments later, Anakin knew when his Master had located Satine.

Because his soul sang with a peace and quiet joy that nearly knocked Anakin over, wrapped up in a fervent belief in being  _safe_ in her presence.

And  _home._

 

* * *

 

Maul sucked in a deep breath.

He  _knew_ what he'd felt.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had broken back into the Force.

And it had been  _dark._

And then he'd been  _gone_ , and Maul feared he'd lost his chance for revenge. Had that been Obi-Wan's defiance in death?

But then another surge hit...

This one, quite a bit more familiar.

That hated, blazing light. Light that had stolen  _so much_ from him, directly and indirectly.

He brought his ship out of hyperspace, and noticed first that the planet seemed well and truly deserted. No sign of the scientists, the doctors...

And as he prowled into the palace, no sign of anyone  _else,_ either.

Oh, they'd  _been_ there. Some of them for a long time.

But they were quite  _gone._

He prowled into the altar room, to find fine bone dust on the floor, dried blood, a shattered altar...

The agony he could sense in this room...

Either the scientists had figured out a way to free his archenemy...

Or Obi-Wan had freed himself.

He saw what appeared to be the remains of a hand on the floor.

A hand from which a finger bone seemed to have been carefully peeled.

He knew what that meant.

 

* * *

It was late, and Anakin could do nothing more to the ship from  _ inside.  _ Planetside would be a different story.

Obi-Wan's signature had settled into sleep a while ago, and ever since had been flickering in and out. There, gone. There, gone. There, gone. There—

Anakin couldn't help but wonder if the two individuals within the scarred body had figured out a way to share dream time.

However that worked, Anakin himself needed sleep.

He searched the ship and found them in what appeared to be Satine's cabin.

It was a tiny room, and Obi-Wan lay stretched on the floor, head pillowed on her lap. She sat with her back braced against the bunk, lightly drawing her fingers over and through his Master's returning hair, not skipping a beat when she reached the symbiont, instead, lightly drumming her fore- and middle-finger against the membrane.

Anakin saw it quiver in response and turn a strange shade of light blue.

The expression of smug satisfaction on Satine's face remained as she glanced up at Anakin.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he whispered.

She gave him a nod, and gently lowered Obi-Wan to the floor.

He expected her to simply shut the door, but she did  _ more _ , leading him back to the cockpit and shutting  _ that  _ door too.

“You think we'd disturb him?” Anakin asked, vaguely amused.

She gave him an unreadable look. “I have no idea what you wanted to talk about.”  
There was cold in her eyes, in her voice that made Anakin feel even more uncomfortable than he already did. “But I do know that Obi-Wan sought me out once he left you. That he was unhappy. And that he told me he didn't want to talk about it.”

Anakin huffed a smirk. “Don't you hate it when he does that?”  
The temperature in the room plummeted.

“He  _ doesn't  _ do that to me.”  
Anakin sent her a skeptical glance. “He doesn't.”

“No.”

“He just  _ talks  _ about what he's going through.”  
“Yes. Including his frustration about  _ not  _ being able to do the same with you.”

Anakin gaped at her. “ _ What _ ?”

“There are a few obvious conclusions I could make about the pain in his eyes and his refusal to speak. He doesn't hide what hurts him from me. He only attempts it if he's afraid of hurting  _ me. _ ”

“O-kay...?”  
“So either his former Padawan intentionally sabotaged my ship, or that little discussion ended in a less-than-positive place.”  
“ _ I  _ think it did,” Anakin protested. “End well, I mean.”

“I have no quarrel with you.” Her voice was quiet. “But you have demonstrated a knowledge of and willingness to use my heartpoints against me.”

Anakin felt as if a rug had been yanked from under his feet. “ _ You  _ feel threatened by  _ me _ ?”  
“Perhaps you are unaware of the disgust that's billowing off of you.” Satine drew herself to her full height and lifted her chin to stare up into his eyes. “If you weren't so important to Obi-Wan, you would no longer be on my ship.”  
“Okay. So I shouldn't have used my knowledge of you against you,” Anakin admitted. “I shouldn't have called you  _ mom  _ when I didn't mean it _.  _ I get how you could feel betrayed by that and have a hard time trusting. You used my confidence you would never hurt me against  _ me.  _ Can you understand how I might feel betrayed by that and have a hard time trusting? Especially since both of our missteps were made in pursuit of helping Obi-Wan?”

She considered for a while, never once giving him respite from her calculating stare. “You speak well,” she finally said.

That was a compliment. Right?

_ But there's something... about her... that makes it feel like the opposite. _

He suspected the phrase, if said in Mando'a, might carry a different meaning than a literal interpretation.

“You felt it, didn't you,” Satine stated. “The words are right. The expression right. The tone right. Something wrong. You could feel the silence. I may not have the Force, but I know when people look down on me.” She turned to leave.

“Please, wait,” Anakin pleaded, with a sense of deja vu.

And then both of them were knocked out of the way as a figure rushed for the controls.

Satine's instant snarl vanished almost as quickly as it had arrived. “Obi. What are you doing?”

“The song. Can't you hear it? Anakin. So loud, so  _ loud— _ ”

Anakin stared at him. “What song?”

The ship responded to Obi-Wan's touch and fell out of hyperspace.

Satine checked the star-charts, swearing softly, though without any real venom aimed at Obi-Wan.

_ She is so patient with him. _

Anakin suspected she might have extended that same gentleness towards himself.

_ But I blew it. _

His next thought was an almost-wistful wonder if he could win back her respect.

_ But that has to go both ways, doesn't it, Skywalker. _

“The  _ song _ ,” Obi-Wan pleaded, staring out the window.

“I'm not seeing any Yuuzhan Vong ships  _ now,  _ but they were here  _ before.  _ Next time you divert us, try to avoid places that might be mined with Yuuzhan Vong gravity wells.”

“We have to land. I have to get down there.”

“Why?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan squinted up at him. “There's something missing. And it's  _ there. _ ”

“Now you're scaring me.  _ What  _ is dragging you down there?”

Frustration spilled across his Master's face as he struggled for words.

It hurt Anakin's heart.  _ Come on, Negotiator. Please don't let them have taken this from you too. _

“Crystal,” Obi-Wan finally managed to offer up. “My crystal is down there.”

“Your lightsaber is  _ here _ ?” Now  _ Anakin  _ glanced to the map.

“No. A new song. Very,  _ very  _ loud— Force, I can't hear myself  _ think _ .”

Satine looked to Anakin, confusion in her face.

_ Something she  _ doesn't  _ know about Jedi? I was beginning to think that impossible. _

“Kyber crystal. They pick their Jedi, then call them. There are a few planets where they can usually be located, but occasionally they're found somewhere else. And no. We can't just leave.”

Satine weighed his words, gave him a sober nod, and slipped into the pilot's chair. “Obi, co-pilot. Tell me where to go, my jetii.”

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

The wreckage on Melb VI was brutal.

Whatever the planet might have looked like before, the Yuuzhan Vong had certainly restructured it.

Dead trees hung over the path, looking like decomposing skeletons dripping black blood.

But there was yet another layer of destruction.

Massive nurseries lay broken, explosions having left goo of all colors across the ground.

“Why does one of our few victories look like an utter waste of time?” Anakin murmured as he picked his way carefully, trying to not collect any of the stench on his boots.

Obi-Wan remained oblivious to it, hunting with a focus that refused to break.

Anakin remembered feeling the same mind-consuming tug the last time he was on Ilum.

Thank the  _ Force  _ the Yuuzhan Vong hadn't found Ilum.

The thought of them re-making  _ that  _ planet physically  _ hurt. _

Satine kept pace with Obi-Wan, on the lookout for anything that might cause damage to the currently-vulnerable Jedi. Anakin felt fairly confident that his Master wouldn't be stepping on any mines any time soon.

And then Obi-Wan dropped to his knees and plunged his hands up to his elbows in one of the viscous puddles.

“ _ Really _ ?” Anakin sputtered. “You couldn't use the Force to pull it  _ out _ ?”

Satine ignored him, instead crouching beside Obi-Wan and murmuring soothing words in Mando'a.

When Obi-Wan's hands emerged, they were cradling something with a gentleness, a tenderness that could have been aimed towards a baby.

Anakin sprang backwards like a tooka, landing in something that squished—

Satine went very, very still, and murmured, “Obi? Switch out. Now.”

Delighted eyes lifted to hers, and Obi-Wan's face lit up with a smile.

“Ob'ika? Let's let Obi-Vong have the body for a minute.”

Obi-Wan's eyes fell shut, his body shivered—

_ If it tries to bite him, I won't be able to move fast enough to prevent it. _ Anakin took slow breaths, hoping to not draw the creature's attention.

And then Obi-Wan looked down at his hands, and cuddled his discovery close. He murmured guttural words to it, and stood up. Satine followed, body tense, lines drawn tight around her eyes.

“It's wounded,” Obi-Wan murmured in Basic. “And its Master is dead. Has been dead, for so long— so alone— so cold—”

The serpent in his arms shivered, then curved towards his chest, the motion feeble.

“Good. So we can kill it and go find your crystal?” Anakin prompted, voice barely above a whisper.

“Crystal?” Obi-Wan sent him a puzzled glance.

“If that thing bites you, you're going to die. And Satine didn't blind me, but if it spits at me,  _ it's  _ going to succeed where she didn't.”  
Satine muttered something about  _ intentions,  _ but Anakin really couldn't spare her the focus right now.

“Will it bite the other Obi-Wan?” Satine asked.

“What? No. Of course not.”  
“Will it hurt either Anakin or myself?”

“Absolutely not.”  
“Then we may need you to give the body back, because the other Obi-Wan is trying to hunt down a lightsaber crystal.”

“Alright.” A heartbeat. “Isn't it beautiful?”

“It's an amphistaff. And it's covered in... really disgusting fluids,” Anakin mumbled. “Can we find your crystal, please? The clean,  _ light-spewing  _ rock? The one that won't  _ bite _ ?”

Obi-Wan raised his head, listening for the song only he could hear, and then smiled. “It's here.” He Force-leaped back to the trees, and stretched out his hands.

A trunk shuddered, then tore from the ground, dead soil raining down, throwing dust everywhere.

Anakin stared at him in astonishment, then sprang to join him. There were certainly too many puddles to  _ run  _ there.

A light rumble, and Anakin was only slightly shocked when Satine landed beside him, reaching Obi-Wan at the same time he did.

_ That jet pack is going to take a while to get used to. _

As a Jedi, he was accustomed to having more maneuverability than everyone else.

_ So of course  _ they  _ figured out a way to counter it. _

It also became a weak point. If you could take out a Mandalorian's jet pack...

_ It would change the playing field. In a big way. _

Obi-Wan dropped the tree, and reached up to one of the death-white roots. His fingers brushed through the dirt, and returned with what appeared to be a soil-covered rock.

The serpent in his arms shifted, and the tone of its breathing changed.

Anakin's hand went to his lightsaber, but he didn't dare turn it on, for fear the creature might react and bite Obi-Wan—

“You like it, don't you,” Obi-Wan murmured, sounding thrilled. He held the stone next to the snake's head and smiled as a cold nose nudged it, then his hand.

Sudden understanding hit Anakin like a tidal wave. “You're not seriously... you want to  _ keep it _ ?”

“I heard her calling for help.”

_ Yeah. And it was a strong enough pull that it allowed you to  _ pause  _ on your way to the crystal. _

That...

Or the crystal had allowed it.

But that was ridiculous.

 

* * *

 

Anakin paced before Satine's sealed bedroom, trying to pretend to himself that he wasn't worried.

He paused, placing his ear to the door, but all was quiet within.

“Maybe he's asleep,” Satine offered from where she sat on the floor farther down the hall.

“No. He's awake and working, and shifting back and forth between the two different Obi-Wans.”  
“We need a better system for talking about them.”

“Yeah. But we're  _ not  _ using  _ Obi-Vong.  _ In fact, I'd be happy if I never heard  _ that  _ phrase ever  _ again. _ ”

Satine let out a low laugh. “I'd have to agree with you. It was pretty terrible. I think it would be potentially dangerous to try to force either of them to choose a new name, however. It could cause trouble down the road, contention over who belongs in this body  _ more. _ ”

“Yeah. I could see that happening.” Anakin sighed. “Any ideas? Because  _ Ob'ika  _ is your thing.”  
“I don't think he'd appreciate you calling him  _ Little Obi-Wan  _ anyway _ , _ ” Satine returned, her tone dry. “And he would object to Obi.”

“Definitely. You and Jar Jar are the only people he allows to get away with that. With Jar Jar, that's only because he could never  _ remember,  _ no matter how many times Obi-Wan tried to tell him to  _ stop. _ ” He looked over at her, curiosity in his hooded glance.

Satine shrugged. “If you want the story on why I get to use it, you'll have to ask him. I think maybe the solution is staring us in the face. We'll call the Jedi  _ Obi-Wan,  _ and the Yuuzhan Vong  _ Kenobi. _ Every time we introduce him, it will be accurate.”

“'This is Obi-Wan Kenobi.' And then we only use the name that fits at the time.”

“It saves explanation,” Satine pointed out. “Sometimes, standing in the open is the best way to hide.”

A thoughtful nod, and then Anakin brushed his fingertips against the door. “He's been locked in there almost a full rotation. When do we break the door down?”

“Give him time,” Satine remonstrated, and he could hear her amusement. “When he needs space, it's best to let him have it.”  
Anakin sent her a bewildered look.  _ Holy kark. Is that the difference between his relationship with me and his with her? Well, except for the obvious, but—? He feels he has to hide things from me because I won't give him space, but he tells her things because he knows she will? _

He wasn't sure whether he felt insulted or glad to have maybe figured out the problem.

But he realized,  _ reluctantly _ , of course, that he wouldn't be knocking on the door and asking how the lightsaber-construction was going.

Which was annoying. Because he was reaching the point where that needed to happen again.

“You're not going to be mad if he tears the wall open to find components, right?” Anakin asked, trying to move past his frustration by way of humor.

“He better not hurt the ship,” Satine growled, but her eyes sparkled. “If he wanted more parts, he would have asked for you to scrounge some.”

“He doesn't have enough things to  _ make  _ a lightsaber,” Anakin complained. “What's the point of locking yourself away if you can't complete it?”

 

* * *

 

Sidious scowled at the reports.

No sign of Obi-Wan Kenobi on Ilum.

Yet.

The Jedi was  _ back.  _ The Force had made  _ that  _ clear.

And he was going to need a lightsaber.

And the best place to find crystals would be Ilum.

So Sidious waited.

Kenobi would turn up, eventually.

Until then he just needed patience.

Patience had won him the galaxy, and he was  _ going  _ to keep it.

 

* * *

 

Kenobi was on the run. That much was obvious.

But  _ where  _ would he go?

Old friends of the Jedi Order were obvious. Too obvious. And Bail Organa was already being closely watched.

Skywalker had fewer ties to the outside than Kenobi did...

Would they be foolish enough to attempt Mandalore?

Maul doubted it.

Especially if the missing finger bone meant what he knew it had to mean.

_ She won't take them there. _

Who knew what contacts Lady Tano might have made in the years since she left the Order.

_ And Thrawn is missing too. _

Time to rattle Black Sun's cage again.

They'd gone for too long without hearing from him.

 

* * *

 

Anakin had fallen asleep, sitting by the door, when it finally opened.

He squinted up, and realized his Master had a triumphant smirk on his face.

Anakin could  _ sense  _ him, so...

_ So it's Obi-Wan. Not Kenobi.  _

Anakin scrambled to his feet and squinted at the amphistaff wrapped around Obi-Wan's arm. “Is it... still hurt?” he asked, trying to sound concerned for its well-being.

Given Satine's almost-smirk, it wasn't working very well.

“No. I have a telepathic link with it. Most Yuuzhan Vong tech works that way. It's clearer when  _ he's  _ in charge, so we kept switching out so I could send healing into places he pointed out.”

“But you can't sense it—?”

“Not in the Force, no. But I'm very aware of it anyway. It feels like an extension of me.” Obi-Wan smiled down into the squinted eyes of his new symbiont. “Anyway. Let's see what color it is.”

Satine frowned. “What?”

“All kyber crystals are a sort of blue-ish clear. After they bond with their chosen Force-user, they take on a color. We don't know what determines it,” Anakin explained.

“But the darksiders always end up with red?”

Obi-Wan winced. “The crystals do not call to those steeped in the dark side. For some reason, they hide from them. So in order to bond with a crystal, a darksider must steal one and force their will upon it. Force it to bond with them. That is why they are red. The bleeding of the crystal's soul. A silent, never-ending scream.”  
And then a shaft of light was extended from Obi-Wan's right— still human— hand.

All three stared at it in stunned disbelief.

“Obi-Wan...?” Anakin murmured.

His Master considered it for a long moment, a furrow between his eyebrows...

And then his expression cleared. “Well. Isn't that interesting.”

“It's... brown,” Satine said, voice flat. “What does  _ that  _ mean?”

“I've never heard of such a thing,” Anakin admitted. “But the crystal clearly picked you—?”

“No forcing. I let it take its pace.”

“And this is the color it chose for your bond.” Anakin frowned. “But... okay. Okay. Do you think it has something to do with the fact that you're... built differently now? Your mind? And that you're only half of this equation?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, and swept the saber through the air, and then shut down the blade.

That's when Anakin's gaze drifted to the hilt. “What the  _ frip _ ?”  
That beautiful smile crossed his Master's face again, and in response to some signal from his mind, the serpent uncoiled from his arm and straightened into a staff. He struck the end against the floor, and Anakin could imagine thousands of them, a deafening roar—

And then Obi-Wan extended it to Anakin.

His former Padawan pulled away, raising his hands, but Obi-Wan suddenly looked hurt.

So Anakin swallowed his discomfort, his unease, his,  _ yes,  _ fear—

And took the staff in his hands. Braced against the floor, it reached almost to Obi-Wan's chin. The glittering eyes of the creature stared into Anakin's, making him shiver.

The younger Jedi took the time to run his hands over the weapon, noting the scars. One, at the throat, terrible and twisting, was new. Partially closed by flesh, and partially closed by coral—

Through the coral, he could see the quiet pulse of kyber.

Anakin stole a covert glance at Obi-Wan's back and realized  _ this  _ was why his Master had brushed off any need for metal pieces.

He had manufactured the components. Coaxed them to grow in the ways needed to focus his crystal.

And now had  _ two  _ living coral collections instead of one.

_ Congratulations? _

“Is there an ignition switch?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan sent him a nod. “Just in case you needed to use it. But I won't bother with it; the telepathic link is much quicker than a physical movement.”

Anakin found a small, round depression, and let his thumb rest against it experimentally.

The bronze blade hissed to life again.

Anakin's eyebrows shot up. “And you can direct...  _ her...  _ into various shapes?”

“Oh, certainly, like any other amphistaff. She has the ability to go from round and non-threatening to having edges.”

“The variations  _ possible _ , here,” Anakin breathed. “Okay. I'm seeing why you're excited about this, now.”

Black eyes glittered up at him, and a forked tongue swept out to lick his hand.

Anakin went very still and breathed deep.

_ Probably can sense your fear, Skywalker. _

“She won't bite you,” Obi-Wan assured him.

And then the creature's head turned to look at her Master, as if hearing a call inaudible to everyone else, and slipped from Anakin's grip, dropping to the floor and slithering to Satine.

Anakin's feet had danced him back and away before he had a chance to think about it.

He saw Satine watching him from the corner of her eye.

_ It's unfair I'm the only normal one here. It's easy for them to accept  _ me.  _ Makes me the only badguy here. _

The serpent wrapped itself around her ankle, a strange thrumming in its ribcage.

Satine's attention deserted Anakin, and focused wholly on the snake. “Hello, beautiful.”

Anakin quirked an eyebrow, which he hastily dragged back down when he sensed Obi-Wan's spark of hurt.  _ You're a woman. You're supposed to  _ hate  _ creatures like this.  _ Why couldn't Satine hold to just  _ one  _ stereotype?  _ One _ ? For his sanity and peace of mind? Something  _ small,  _ so he could pretend she was  _ normal _ ?

Another voice whispered back in his mind.  _ She  _ is  _ normal. Just a different normal from yours. _

_And Obi-Wan Kenobi is discovering his own new normal. Their new normal._

That might be true. It might even be  _ reasonable,  _ but—

_ But it's so difficult to accept Kenobi's religion. Why did Obi-Wan's otherness have to come with supernatural ties? To something so...  _ ridiculous _? _

Yun Yuuzhan tearing pieces of himself  _ out  _ to create the cosmos? Seriously?

Obi-Wan's words from earlier returned, changed just a little to fit Anakin's current thoughts.

_ Do you doubt Kenobi's heart? His love? His selflessness? _

No.

_ And he shares an intellect with Obi-Wan's. Yes. They have gone in two separate directions, but... _

_Do you doubt that intelligence?_

No.

_ Then why can't you accept him,  _ all  _ of him, for who he is now? Not pine for who he  _ used  _ to be, not try to sculpt him into something different  _ tomorrow,  _ but accept him for who he is right this second? _

_ Do you love him enough to respect his religion, even if you believe it to be  _ stupid _? _

_ Do you love him enough to accept Satine's... insistence on retaining her tribal behaviors, even when you believe that  _ primitive _? _

Anakin watched as Satine gathered the amphistaff in her arms, careful not to trap it against her body, handling it like she'd held a snake before and knew what to do—

Watched as it rubbed the side of its face against her chin like a feline might.

Watched as Obi-Wan's eyelids fell half-mast, clearly pleased by whatever signals his new...  _ lightsaber... _ was sending his way.

_ Must everyone be exactly like me? _

He felt that some of the things Satine felt normal were  _ wrong. _

Kenobi undoubtedly felt Anakin's own infidel status just as sorely.

_ And yet he's trying to reach out to me. Programmed to want to kill anything even remotely different from himself, he's trying. _

And succeeding rather spectacularly, if Anakin forced himself to be honest.  _ He thinks of  _ me  _ as a primitive. A defiler. And yet he's bringing himself to respect me.  _ Choosing  _ to respect me. _

_ Force  _ Anakin loved his Master.

_ All of him? _

_I..._

_Yes._

It might be a tangled web of different moral values, but...

_ The four of us belong together, for now. And right now, that's all that matters. _

The amphistaff hooked a fang around something concealed by Satine's armor and drew it out—

Anakin blinked as he saw a tiny ivory pendant, carefully shaped—

Something felt familiar about it.

Obi-Wan made a choked noise and reached out towards it.

Satine smiled down at the serpent. “Clever, aren't you?” she crooned. “Yes. It's his.”

Obi-Wan's new hand clenched, and Anakin could sense silent screams of pain burning up Obi-Wan's arm, probably physical memories left from standing up and feeling his hand tear away—

“Little premature, isn't it?” he murmured, voice taut with the horror he couldn't  _ remember  _ but somehow  _ felt anyway— _

Satine looked up, and Anakin saw the calm love in her eyes. “I thought it likely that Anakin would find my customs revolting. Perhaps even desecrating or demeaning. You weren't going to use that hand anymore, and if we lost you somewhere along the line... this way I wouldn't have to ask Anakin to be allowed— I wouldn't disturb his grief with my own— I could— he wouldn't have to suffer—” Satine's glance flicked to Anakin's face, then away as she lowered her head to the snake and gave up trying to explain, her fingers closing over the bone.

Anakin stared at her.

His gut wanted to heave. He could sense Obi-Wan's agony wrapped all around that piece that had been part of his body  _ not that long ago,  _ and had been stolen from him in a pointless, needless series of cruelties _ — _

_She kept his severed finger._

His stomach rolled.

Grief and hopelessness struck him.

Not his own, but coming from Satine.

It didn't show on her half-hidden face, but it flooded Anakin's senses.

_ She wanted to protect me. She didn't want to intrude upon my pain with her own form of grieving. _

_ The woman who is in  _ love  _ with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and whom he loves. _

_What right would I have to deny her what she needs for closure?_

Yet instead of fighting for that right, she'd tried to make sure he wouldn't have to face her  _ despicable  _ traits on the day his heart would undoubtedly break.

It was viciously uncomfortable for him to think about Obi-Wan Kenobi  _ dying. _

_ Stick it out, Anakin. Just this once. _

He squared his shoulders.  _ She was willing to sacrifice her own needs to respect mine. _

In that moment, he knew he'd been  _ wrong. _

Terribly, terribly wrong.

_ You put me to shame. _

“Satine? May I see it, please?”

Her head didn't move, but her eyes snapped up to study him. For a long moment she stood still, and then she reached out and laid the object in his right palm.

Anakin swallowed hard against the gag reflex.

_ No. _

He didn't dare look at Obi-Wan. Not yet.

Anakin bit the fingertips of his left glove and pulled it from his hand.

Ignoring those standing near him, he stroked the bone with his finger, feeling the cold smoothness against his flesh.

_ This represents her dedication to putting  _ you  _ ahead of herself. _

You.  _ Who have given her no good reason to do so. _

You.  _ Who would have done everything you could to deny her this final comfort. _

You.  _ Who would have told her she couldn't say goodbye to the man she loved using the language of her heart. _

He stared at the bone until his gut settled down.

He left his finger touching it until the heat in his throat that wanted to turn into bile receded.

_ You know,  _ something whispered at the corners of his consciousness,  _ if you could bring yourself to  _ say  _ it... _

Everything in him revolted. He'd spent the first nine years of his life pushing against having to  _ ever  _ say those words.

_ It wouldn't kill me. I've survived worse. _

_ So why am I so unwilling to say something that would help  _ both  _ of them? _

He closed his metal fingers over the bone, took a deep breath, and looked up, straight into Satine's cautious, guarded eyes, and  _ said  _ it.

“I'm sorry. I was wrong.”

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Satine's lips parted in startled shock, and she numbly accepted the pendant back.

Her gaze darted to Obi-Wan's face, which looked like he was trying to determine whether he was dreaming or possibly dead.

Anakin stood there looking helplessly vulnerable, as if he had shed his beskar'gam and bared his throat to them.

The serpent moved first, launching itself from Satine's arms and curling around Anakin's neck.

The boy's eyes widened, and Satine could see his pulse flutter frantically—

But Obi-Wan was only a second behind his living lightsaber. He reached out his palm, pressing it against Anakin's cheek.

The pride and love in the older Jedi's face nearly made the younger forget the snake.

Almost.

Obi-Wan's eyes fell shut, and Anakin's widened again.

Not for the first time, Satine felt just a subtle wince of being left out.

There were moments when it wasn't easy to be Force-blind.

But Obi-Wan stepped away, taking his amphistaff with him.

Anakin steadied himself with a deep breath, then looked to Satine, questions written across his face.

The words burning in her heart, words she  _ must say,  _ came to her lips in Mando'a. “Cin vhetin.”

He studied her in silence, clearly reading her signature in the Force.

And then he relaxed and gave her a nod.

He didn't know what the words would translate into, but he recognized her  _ heart. _

And he'd decided that's all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

Anakin had stayed to watch the first several minutes of sparring that the two lovebirds had insisted on. It was much more subdued than the bout Anakin had taken part in— damage to the ship being flatly forbidden.

It was uncanny to see how well Obi-Wan wielded the new weapon.

_ I'm going to have to find out if  _ she  _ has a name. _

Anakin retreated to the room he'd discovered was the  _ one  _ cabin.

No doubt the others would wear out eventually and want to steal the bunk away from him, so he might as well take advantage of an opportunity to sleep  _ now. _

Another one of those things he'd learned in the Clone War.

Damn, he missed Rex and the 501 st .

Sighing, he tumbled himself onto the bunk and closed his eyes.

And promptly found them flying open again.

For the love of the  _ Force,  _ his Master and his love for Satine lit up the ship like fireworks.

Anakin wanted to resent the sheer  _ loudness  _ of it, it was interrupting his much-needed  _ sleep— _

But he'd never felt his Master so happy.

_ Ever. _

Every pain, every grief faded away.

Every regret.

Anakin let his eyelids drift shut again.

Thought of the countless nights he'd fallen asleep listening to his Master's Force-signature.

He couldn't help but compare the differences.

Satine somehow poured strength through his veins and comfort through his soul.

And while she didn't have the Force voice that Obi-Wan had, Satine could be read as well.

She felt complete.

As if she could dance here forever, hoping the moment would never end—

With a joy so shattering it nearly left her breathless.

_ Yes.  _ The fact that Obi-Wan had never had sex had annoyed Anakin in the past.

_ I always told myself it's because I thought he was missing out. _

But listening to the duet in the hold as Mando fought Jedi, Anakin decided that maybe he should let go of that too.

_ He's happy. _

So very happy.

Anakin opened his soul to it, and allowed the strangely calm, infinitely strong depths of their love to lull him to sleep.

He wondered, vaguely, right on the brink of unconsciousness, why they reminded him of his mother.

 

* * *

 

Anakin's first thought as he awoke made about as much sense as a waterfall on Tatooine.

The second was a little more coherent.

He rolled over and squinted at the door, realizing he had awakened on his own, hadn't been disturbed—

His yawn broke off half-way through as he caught sight of the figures on the floor.

Satine lay on her back, apparently oblivious to the unyielding metal flooring. Obi-Wan lay curled perpendicular to her, his head resting against her side as if she might be a pillow.

Her  _ armor-covered _ side.

_ That can't be more comfortable than the floor. _

The fingers of one of Satine's hands rested on the coral protrusions on his back, and the others curved around her blaster.

To complete the tableau, the amphistaff slept curled up in a perfect circle on her stomach.

Satine's eyes snapped open, then flicked to the side without a muscle in her body moving. Ascertaining the watcher was Anakin, she turned her head and sent him a lazy smile. Her hand came up to lightly stroke Obi-Wan's hair before it settled on the coral again.

Anakin didn't want to disturb his Master, he undoubtedly  _ needed  _ the rest, but—

_ Do you have to get up now?  _ He considered.  _ It's been a long time since you last slept in. _

It wasn't like there was anything he had to attend to  _ now. _

That was a very strange realization.

So he snuggled deeper into the thin mattress, winced at how lumpy it  _ still  _ was— how did the two on the floor look so  _ comfortable—  _ and let his eyelids fall shut once more.

It seared the image into his mind.

Obi-Wan's face, looking a couple decades younger because there wasn't a single line of worry in his brow.

For wonderful, long moments there was silence—

And then Obi-Wan's voice snapped out. “There will be a power vacuum.”

Anakin groaned. “ _ No. _ No, no, no. Don't wake up.”

“What are the odds that Palpatine will agree to a peace with the rearranged Yuuzhan Vong structure?”

“He's  _ losing, _ ” Anakin grumbled. “He'd be crazy to  _ not  _ go for the ceasefire—”

“What does he want? Absolute control. He may delude himself into thinking he can win. Especially if they are no longer fanatical about it for religious reasons.”

“No, I think he'll try to cut a deal.” Anakin sighed into the pillow. “There's plenty of uninhabited, unused planets out there. And they could help the economy. Probably. Somehow.”

Satine snorted a laugh.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “ _ What _ ? It's true. I just don't know how it's true. And—  _ what  _ power vacuum?”

“When we take out Palpatine.”  
Anakin propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at Obi-Wan, who hadn't moved except for opening his eyes. “The three of us against all of them.”  
“Four,” Obi-Wan murmured. “The odds aren't great, I know.”

“The odds are  _ terrible. _ ”

“You asked about the vacuum. The Senators  _ wanted  _ an Emperor. If we topple him and try to restore democracy, it's going to fail. Spectacularly. They're just going to appoint a new individual— perhaps with the title of Chancellor— with practically the same powers. It's what they  _ want. _ ”

Anakin blinked. “So you're saying that we get rid of a Sith only to end up with some power-grabbing politician.”  
Satine chuckled. “Oh, Obi.”  
Obi-Wan let out a weary sigh. “I'm  _ considering  _ possibilities.”  
Anakin sat up and stared at them both. “Wait,  _ wait— _ ”

“It would put you in the perfect place to work out a peace with the Yuuzhan Vong. You would have the authority to make it happen. You've already been  _ on  _ the Council of the Alliance, you were a hero of the last war— which they felt they  _ won—  _ and you have a couple of positives that Palpatine will never have. Heartthrob looks and a story of heartbreak and betrayal.”

“You really don't need to flatter me.”  
“I'm telling it like I see it. If you were to defeat Palpatine and take out a few key voices, you would take that Senate by storm.”

“Wait. Obi-Wan as Chancellor?”

“Obi-Wan as Emperor,” Satine corrected, voice soft.

Anakin's mind struggled to cope with the sheer concept.

It failed.

“What about... freedom, and stuff?” Anakin shook his head. “I thought that you really believed in the whole representation process?”

“I do. And once peace has been forged between the Yuuzhan Vong and the Empire, authority could begin to be handed back. There are Senators who would work with me towards that end.”

“Yeah, but...  _ Emperor Kenobi _ ?”

Satine pursed her lips and sat up. “That might be a problem.”

“Or an asset,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “Especially during negotiations with the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“I see you told him about the system?”

Obi-Wan nodded, having slightly shifted so his head rested on Satine's metal-covered thigh, but refusing to budge beyond that. He looked up at Anakin. “But I get your meaning. The general population wouldn't know the difference.”

“And what about the...  _ extra  _ bits that have been added?” Anakin asked. “Yuuzhan Vong hysteria isn't likely to calm  _ down  _ when people are being ruled by a man who's growing coral out of his back.”

“That is the greatest obstacle.”

“Except for, you know, two Sith Lords and a plan for control that one of them has been working on for decades.” Anakin shook his head. “And people say  _ I'm  _ the reckless one.”

Satine laughed. “You forget your Master was raised by Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“You know...” Anakin leaned forward and eyed his Master. “Satine, you mentioned the sympathy vote. Maybe Obi-Wan's symbionts might not be a detriment. What if it was spun in a way... he was captured. Tortured. But he was rescued, he survived, he broke _ free _ . Doesn't that make him  _ more  _ of a heartthrob hero?”

Satine considered it. “Instead of trying to make little of it, make it the focus point?  _ Look at what he's suffered to protect you _ ?”

“Exactly. Turn a liability into an asset.”

_ Now  _ Obi-Wan sat up. “I'm not sure that—”

“There.” Anakin nodded. “Their humble, unassuming, kind Emperor. He'd automatically have the support of those who think Palpatine too frivolous and flamboyant.”

“Just doing his duty. He would feel less threatening to those worried about power-collectors, and as a Jedi, he would appeal to those who resisted the Empire to the last votes,” Satine agreed. “The key players to take out won't be difficult to spot. Amedda is at the top of the list.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Darling, you know how I get when you start talking about assassinations.”

Satine hummed. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

But the gleam in her eye told Anakin that she had no intention of taking the option  _ off  _ the table.

 

* * *

 

Something was wrong.

Palpatine frowned and searched the Force.

“Emperor. Your o-seven-hundred is here.”

That would be Senator Organa.

Palpatine turned away from the window—

And found a sweetly-smiling Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Palpatine winced in pain and dimly realized there was a length of amphistaff buried in his body.

_ I didn't sense him. Why couldn't I sense him—? _

“Master Kenobi?” Palpatine choked, crashing to his knees.

“Obi-Wan's not in right now.”

His words didn't make sense, but then again, very little  _ did  _ as he sank into the abyss of nothingness.

 

* * *

 

“Satine, what's your ETA?” Anakin flicked several switches on the dashboard.

“Amedda's down.”

“Kenobi?”

“Complete,” the Yuuzhan Vong reported.

Satine's voice came through the comm again. “Tarkin?”

Anakin brought his speeder just a bit closer—

It was but a flick of his fingers to send Tarkin's conveyance smashing into the side of a building.

The fireball half-blinded Anakin for a second. “Done. Is Organa in position?”

“Yes.” Satine again. “Skywalker. Need you at the Senate building.”

Anakin arched an eyebrow at her choice of name.

Once they'd settled on a course of action, Satine had switched into full merc mode, and had gone strangely formal.

There were only two people with the clout to force the issue of Palpatine's overthrow in the immediate aftermath.

Both were now dead.

Palpatine and Tarkin dead, Thrawn missing, Anakin throwing his lot in with Obi-Wan—

The only other members of the Council working against the Yuuzhan Vong were Maul and Cad Bane.

The bounty hunter would follow the money.

And Maul just happened to be chasing rumors of Obi-Wan through the Outer Rim.

It was strange, to stand by Kenobi's side, facing the entire Senate.

Even stranger to not be asking  _ permission. _

They didn't ask for  _ votes. _

His Master stood there and explained he was in charge now.

Anakin was surprised by the relief that surged through much of the audience, and not at  _ all  _ surprised by the hatred that fueled the rest.

They would rail, they would call this ridiculous and do what they could to  _ change _ the situation—

But Thrawn had been paving the way for almost as long as Palpatine himself.

The clones answered to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Their Chiss... ally... had found codes that would convince them the Emperor had been a traitor.

No clone would try to take Kenobi to task for the murder.

No matter  _ what  _ any senator said.

Too many worlds were terrified for their very survival to  _ care  _ much  _ who  _ was in charge.  _ Just save us from the Vong—! _

Palpatine sure hadn't been doing a good job of that.

Even the more wealthy worlds had been targeted by the invaders.

He hadn't been able to protect his strongest supporters.

But _this_... this was a man who had been taken by the Yuuzhan Vong and _survived_. He'd walked away. He _knew_ how they thought, how they moved—

He could speak their language.

Maybe there was  _ hope. _

Planetary defense forces were far too busy struggling for their lives to be aimed at governmental matters. The senators  _ themselves _ certainly weren't going to take up arms.

It left the general populations and the royal guard.

The average person had long passed the point of giving a  _ kark  _ who was in charge as long as they, their planets, and their children  _ survived. _

Kenobi certainly had the presence to inspire hope.

_ Obi-Wan always did,  _ Anakin mused.

Even when things had seemed darkest, people would turn to Obi-Wan and feel just a bit safer.

Whether he could actually  _ do  _ anything or not was another matter— something different in each circumstance...

But in a disastrous situation, people were more likely to behave with courage if he was present than if he was absent.

Anakin listened to Kenobi speak, and knew that if he hadn't had the Force, he would have believed him to be Obi-Wan. His efforts, working closely with Satine to learn how to imitate Obi-Wan, had certainly paid off.

The crowd sure believed it.

The pieces had fallen into place.

Kenobi completed his short speech and the room erupted with cheers, drowning out the handful of jeers.

Kenobi ignored it all, and left the room.

The overthrow had been near-bloodless...

But Anakin knew that the bloodshed was about to hit.

 

* * *

 

“Things have changed, my son.”

“Where _is_ he? I cannot _find him—_ ”

“He sits on Sidious' throne.” The dead woman's face twisted in a snarl at the hated name. “But his hold remains only because there is no-one to challenge him. Now is the  _perfect_ time to strike.”

“What is he  _doing_ ?”

“Opening negotiations with the invaders.”

Maul hated himself for the next question, but he was  _going_ to ask it. “Is it working?”

His mother sent him a slightly bewildered glance. “Does it  _matter_ ?”

“Yes.”

“Then  _yes._ They are working out some deal where the Yuuzhan Vong end up with unwanted planets that they can terraform to their hearts' content; a separate political entity with economic ties going back and forth between both empires.”

“Then why not wait until the infrastructure is set up?” Maul gestured. “Impatience has only  _ever_ caused me pain.”

Losing his legs.

Sidious, killing Savage.

Sidious, killing his Mother.

He wasn't going to make that mistake again. “If I topple Kenobi  _now,_ I would have to do all the work  _he_ is doing.”

“Or obliterate the enemy.”

Maul sighed. “I'm afraid the key to accomplishing such a delightful end has yet to be discovered. Once again, patience will suit our purposes better.”  
For a long moment she remained silent.

Then she growled, low in her throat. “There is too much of your father in you. I have yet to determine whether it is a good thing or bad.”

 

* * *

 

“Obi-Wan, I need you to come back to me. I have done something terrible.”

Blue eyes blinked, a little disoriented—

_It's the longest he's been under since Thrawn._ Anakin winced.  _And he didn't know it was going to be this long._

He slipped from the room, knowing this was going to be bad.

He'd been dreading it from the beginning.

He wasn't new to murder.

And when he'd tried to turn away from the assassination suggestions, Satine had called his bluff.

And now they were going to have to live with the fallout.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the fuzz. “Satine?”

Kenobi must have gotten involved in an enthusiastic sparring match and hit their head against something.  _Do I have a concussion?_

“Obi-Wan, please.”

_Something terrible...?_

Dread flooded his system and he sat up. He knew fear spread through his eyes. “Satine?” he asked quietly.

“I betrayed you,” she murmured, apparently memorizing every line of his face.

_As if she's afraid she'll never see it again._

_Or..._

_Never see it without it being twisted with hostility._

The bad feeling became  _worse._

“Betrayed me?” he repeated. His tone revealed the fact that he didn't believe it possible.

“I let your body do something you would never do.”

Ice ran down his back. “Satine—”

“I may have killed some people,” she confessed. “And I let your body kill one too.”

Obi-Wan felt an all too familiar tremble in his hand. “Satine?”

“I organized the successful takeover of the Empire. It was almost entirely bloodless. But instead of a frontal assault and battle, I directed three surgical strikes. Three assassinations. Three murders, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan yelped. “Tarkin, Amedda, Palpatine.”

“Yes.”

“Sweet  _Force,_ Satine! Only the most heavily protected individuals in the  _galaxy—_ !”

“It worked. And the only lives lost were theirs, and a few of Palpatine's royal guard. The rest are in prison, put there by the clones.”

“The clones,” Obi-Wan murmured, trying to  _fathom—_

“Obi, four men died in battle, and three were murdered. And the throne is ours now.”

He squeezed his eyes shut against the pounding headache that was headed his way. Soon.

“Tarkin had a driving accident. I shot Amedda. But I couldn't get close enough to Sidious without him sensing—”

“So you used Kenobi. Who had no compunctions against murder.”

“Yes. I betrayed you.”

His eyes flew open. “ _Force fripping_ damn  _it,_ Satine!” It would be so much easier to be  _angry_ with her if she would just fight to  _defend_ herself—

“I did wrong.”

Obi-Wan dragged both hands over his face, and didn't glitch when he saw the symbiont. “You conspired with the other me to have me murder a Sith.”

“Yes. How does the Force around you feel?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, afraid of what he would find, but reached out anyway.

Light whispered around him.

“It doesn't feel any different,” he admitted, suspiciously.

She simply watched his face. “Did I corrupt you?”

His light felt strong, he—

_I didn't murder him._

“I'm responsible  _somehow,_ ” Obi-Wan growled. “You used my body and my lightsaber, yes? It's  _my_ job to make sure they aren't used for darkness—”

“And I betrayed your trust.”

“Stop  _saying that_ !” Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet and used the Force to key the door open—

And found Anakin standing there, now trying to look like he  _hadn't_ been listening in.

“And  _you_ allowed it.” He leveled a glare at his former apprentice.

 

* * *

 

Satine had coached him on how to deal with this. She'd warned him that if he fought back, defended himself in  _any way,_ that would be the end of it. Obi-Wan would have his fight, and then the effort was  _over._

So Anakin swallowed his pride and nodded in the face of Obi-Wan's accusation. “And I made Tarkin crash.”

All color drained from Obi-Wan's face.

When he turned around to look at Satine, he moved like an old man. Almost tottered.

It felt like a punch to Anakin's heart.

“Satine?” He sounded so broken—

Anakin forced his mouth to move through the terror that took hold of him.  _What is this going to do to him?_

But Satine—

No.

He wasn't going to back out now.

Her words had made sense.

Now it was a matter of willpower.

“Obi-Wan... it wasn't my first murder.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Guide:
> 
> Cin vhetin (Pronounced /SEEN fett-EEN/) = Fresh start/ clean slate. Literally, “white field.” A snow covering old transgressions. Nothing done in the past will be held against you anymore. It's a start-over.


	17. Chapter 17

Obi-Wan felt like he was hearing people speak... but they had the air, and he was being held underwater.

Their voices were muffled.

And he just couldn't breathe.

Anakin's voice was shaking, he was explaining what he'd done— and  _when—_ but it was too much.

Anakin simply stated the facts, and then he fell silent.

Obi-Wan tried to remember how to form words.

Failed.

 

* * *

 

Anakin stood still, every nerve in his body quivering.

_Say something, please._

Satine had been  _very_ firm.

She'd drilled him, she'd tested him, she'd  _prepared_ him.

Everything in him wanted to throw Satine's directions out the window. To plead with his best friend, his  _father—_

But Satine had raked him over the coals the last two weeks.

So he held his tongue.

And shook.

And waited.

 

* * *

 

Satine had never been more proud of Anakin Skywalker than she was in this moment.

Even as her heart broke for Obi-Wan.

The amphistaff quivered, circled around the Jedi's feet, clearly anxious—

“Children, Anakin?”

Satine grit her teeth against the pain that shuddered through her heart at the half-whimpered words. They weren't an accusation or remonstrance.

Simply a desperate plea that he'd heard  _wrong._

Anakin's eyes flicked to Satine's face, and she could see the desperation that boiled there. “Yes,” he rasped.

Satine could  _see_ the effort it took him to simply wait.

And then the figure standing there wasn't Obi-Wan.

Kenobi blinked and asked, “How did it go?”

 

* * *

 

Anakin sagged against the wall, dragging a hand down his face. “He got away from us and from all of  _this_ in the most complete way he knew how.”

“He  _ran away_ ?” Kenobi felt shame flood his system.

“Easy,” the love of his heart murmured. “Sometimes running is its own form of fighting.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Was it that sort of running?”

“While I cannot tell you what took place in his mind, I  _do_ know Obi. He always puts others first. We have negotiations to oversee, and an empire to bring into line. His personal conflict could destroy either or both efforts.”

Kenobi tilted his head. “So he chose to address his schisms with the two of you later?”

He studied Satine's eyes.

She didn't flinch.

“I think you don't know,” Kenobi said at last. “Perhaps he did not wish to face the pain. Perhaps he ran from  _that_ .”

“You don't know that,” Satine returned, tone cool.

Kenobi shook his head. “No. But—”

“And Obi-Wan has endured  _much_ over the years. The loss of his entire species.”

Kenobi considered that.  _What would I be, if the only Yuuzhan Vong left standing was me? The Jedi are no more._

 

* * *

 

When knowledge returned to Obi-Wan, and he found that Anakin and Satine hadn't moved, he desperately surrendered again.

Only to be pulled out.

“Obi, Obi  _wait—_ ”

Poised to dive once more, Obi-Wan's mind hesitated.

“Kenobi won't let you stay under. He's afraid you are running away. He's afraid of half of himself becoming unwilling to face pain.”

Obi-Wan stared at the beloved face that now felt so... unknown.

“Weakness,” he murmured. “He hates my weakness.”

“No. He's terrified of it, and is convinced that the best way for you to beat it is to be forced to face it.”

“Where is the nearest cantina?”

Tension that hadn't been there before whispered into Satine's Force-signature, but she didn't say a word.

A familiar rumble under his feet finally made its way to his brain. “Why are we in your ship, not the  _Imperial Palace_ ?”

But he knew the answer.

They hadn't wanted Obi-Wan to have to face this hell in his once-and-future home, where the ghosts of a thousand of his slaughtered brothers and sisters screamed.

_How very thoughtful of you._

“What happens now?” He raised his chin and met Satine's quiet gaze with defiance. “How can I convince Kenobi to let me sleep in peace? Give me a plan, O Master Strategist.”

Her brow furrowed with concentration, but she didn't offer him anything.

Obi-Wan shrugged, feeling a strange, careless freedom. “You can tell him he needn't worry about weakness. I won't be coming back. He can have the body, the throne, et cetera— he needn't share anymore. All I want is sleep. He can even have the name, if he wants it.”

Still this wretched silence.

They were supposed to  _argue_ or  _plead—_

His amphistaff made a garbled noise and fled the room.

_Oh, so now_ you're  _abandoning me too?_

Still silence.

The silence was going to destroy him.

“You  _have_ what you need.  _Everything_ you need. You've taken everything from me, and there is nothing you have that I want. May I  _go_ now?”

Obi-Wan could sense Anakin vibrating, the need to  _speak_ burning him up from the inside out.

“Well? Why  _don't_ you?” Obi-Wan demanded, turning on him.

Anakin's strained expression only tightened. “Why don't I what?”

“ _Say_ whatever it is that you so desperately want to say!”

Anakin's gaze flicked for a moment to Satine's face, then he took a deep breath. “Because I did something terrible.”  
Obi-Wan waited. Waited for the  _but they._ At least a  _but it wasn't as bad as._

Anakin always had  _reasons_ why he shouldn't be held accountable.

Let him try it this time. Let him  _just try it—_

But nothing came.

And then Obi-Wan's eyes were burning. The anger took too much effort from his broken spirit, and it required  _conflict._

He needed to get out of here, before he fell apart.

Except, as he turned for the door—

He couldn't quite remember why he should  _bother._

And then he was on his knees, rocking, and tears without sobs tore their silent scars down his face.

Someone was crouched beside him.

Someone he'd  _thought_ he knew.

Someone he'd never had a doubt, not  _one,_ that she would never push him to violate his conscience.

Someone he could turn body and soul over to and know she'd guard them the way he wanted them kept.

Someone he'd thought he could trust  _completely._

And the shattering of that bond felt like someone had ripped his heart from his chest.

But somehow  _worse_ than even that _—_

“He  _gave_ him to me,” he murmured. “Where was I, when he needed me? Where was I when  _either_ of them needed me?”

 

* * *

 

Anakin stared at him in horrified disbelief.  _He thinks this is_ his  _fault?_

In the Force, the anger had been a swift flare, a desperate bid for salvation, and had died almost as soon as it was born.

If Anakin himself had been experiencing  _these_ levels of agony of soul, he wouldn't be kneeling in silence.

His Master's endurance staggered him.

_“And what are_ you _destined for?”_

_“Infinite pain, Anakin.”_

The memory gave the younger Jedi feet.

Satine was already crouched beside her love.

Anakin knelt by his other side.

_“All I want is sleep. May I_ go _now?”_

“Obi-Wan, you taught me right from wrong. You taught me to stand for what I believe in no matter how I feel about it at the time. You taught me humility and forgiveness and courage. You taught me independence. To make my own decisions. And you taught me to recognize when I need  _help,_ and to  _ask_ for it.  _You_ didn't make me—” he wanted to use a word that lessened the weight of what he'd done.  _Killed,_ maybe. Or  _take out._ Perhaps  _eliminate._

But Satine had been  _ruthless_ in her coaching.

“— you didn't ignite my saber and make me murder those—” again, word options—  _murderers_ ?  _Creatures_ ?  _Tusken Raiders?_ No. No more excuses. “—people _._ And you didn't tape my mouth shut so I couldn't tell you sooner, and ask for help that I  _knew_ I needed. Every step of the way, I have made—”  _mistakes? Accidents? Unwise—_ “choices, Obi-Wan. I knew. And I decided.”

His Master's shoulders convulsed, and his face crumpled.

Everything within Anakin pushed against the discomfort he felt. The  _need_ to be excused, vindicated,  _justified—_

The need to have  _not been wrong._

Or for everyone to  _pretend_ that was the case.

_We've been in wars. There is blood on all our hands_ .

Or,  _the Force screams so loudly in my head that sometimes I'm not sure what I'm doing._

Or maybe,  _even_ you  _would have broken the code, if you were me. I know you've broken the code in_ other  _ways, at some point, right? What right have you to judge me?_

Or better yet,  _those babies would have grown up to kill other innocent settlers like my Mom. I stopped that from happening._

No.

_No._

He'd been justifying murder for years.

_You chose it. And_ this,  _accepting his reactions, is_ part  _of what you chose that night._

He hadn't really considered what it might do to the people who loved him, when he stood and ignited his saber that night in the desert. He hadn't considered what his mother would have wanted.

_I was only thinking about me and my pain._

It would be easy,  _so_ easy to do that again  _here._

To be angry that Obi-Wan wasn't spewing out,  _I forgive you, we all make mistakes._

_What if Ahsoka had taken out a tribe of humans? The innocent along with the guilty?_

_How would_ I  _feel?_

He remembered the devastation he'd felt, the confusion, the self-doubt, the  _pain_ he'd felt when Ahsoka left the Order.

_And she didn't even do anything wrong._

For long, painful moments, not a sound escaped Obi-Wan.

And then he looked over into Anakin's face.

Anakin felt the fire in his forehead, his cheeks, wanted to avoid Obi-Wan's heartbroken, searching gaze—

But he  _forced_ himself to meet it—

And then he was gathered in a crushing hug, Obi-Wan's tears eating through the flesh of his shoulder.

Though stunned by the unusual contact, Anakin held him tight, letting his own tears fall. “I'm sorry, I'm  _sorry,_ ” Anakin sobbed.

Obi-Wan gripped him tighter.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan believed in repentance.

Without it, the universe would be a hopeless place.

He also knew that those who were firmly in the grip of darkness— of selfishness— would have no  _desire_ to return to the light. They would see no point in it.

There was a  _reason_ for the old adage  _forever will it dominate your destiny._

He'd waited. Waited with a sick heart for the self-focused vindications. Waited for anger from his former apprentice, since Obi-Wan couldn't just accept  _murder_ , no matter  _who_ had committed it. Waited for arrogance to assert its ugly head.

They hadn't come.

In the Force there had only been grief, humility—

Not the voice of a man who would turn around and repeat his atrocities if given the right provocation.

And while the slaughter of innocents could never be made  _right_ ...

Perhaps Anakin could still be  _saved._

Perhaps he would be willing to do what had to be done to atone.

Obi-Wan poured all of his love into the Force, allowing it to shatter through Anakin's soul.

 

* * *

 

Anakin nearly blacked out from the intensity of Obi-Wan's message.

Instead of calming him, it nearly destroyed him.

_How can you, so pure, so good, love me anyway?_

But then, Qui-Gon had loved Xanatos too.

_And yet they still became enemies._

But Obi-Wan hadn't walked out, hadn't left him, and hadn't tried to take him out.

Anakin knew he had Satine to thank.

The most precious thing he had left, his relationship with Obi-Wan, had a chance at survival, because of the wisdom of a primitive.

_Wiser than I am._

And he knew one thing, beyond the shadow of a doubt.

_Obi-Wan needs her._

“Master,” he whispered, swiping the tears from his eyes and leaning back so he could see Obi-Wan's face. “What about Satine?”

She still crouched, unmoving. Waiting. Watching.

Obi-Wan sighed, but didn't look around. “She did not corrupt you. Your innocence had already been lost. Nor did she force you to destroy Tarkin. She is responsible for whatever plan she conceived, and for her actions alone.”

“And yours,” Satine added.

Obi-Wan turned to look at her. “No. You're not.” Bewilderment stole her face, but was quickly masked. “I am.”

“But it was Kenobi—”

“Kenobi wouldn't exist, if it wasn't for my choices. I'm the one who allowed my mind to change. Anything he does is irrevocably linked to me. I did not see us as at war with the Empire. You did, didn't you.”

She gave him a sober nod.

He let out a shuddering breath. “It was the most bloodless galactic-scale regime overthrow this galaxy has seen—  _ever._ By the numbers, it should make your inner pacifist pleased.”

“About like a Jedi's perception of events?” she asked quietly.

Something like a grieved smile touched his lips, even if it didn't reach his eyes. “I feel sullied,” he admitted. “But I opened that door. You simply took advantage of the existing pieces in order to accomplish the goal we'd agreed upon.

“What is justified in war, and if war is ever justified—” he searched her eyes, helplessly. “Why are we once again staring at one another across this chasm?”

His sorrow mirrored itself all through her. “I am ready to submit to whatever judgment you decide is necessary. I stand by what I did.”

“It is not my place to determine who is guilty of war crimes.”

Satine stirred, gave him a gentle shake of her head. “Actually it is, Emperor.”

“As soon as peace is forged, the justice system  _must_ be restored.”

“What do we do?” Anakin asked, knowing Obi-Wan would understand his question.

It had nothing to do with the Empire's future politics.

“What is done in a war is separate from time of peace,” Obi-Wan murmured. “You know that.”

Anakin swallowed hard. “Yeah. I do.”

“Tatooine is run by a crime syndicate. They are hardly the guardians of justice, even if they cared about the lives of the indigenous tribes, which they don't.”

“And with the Republic gone, there is no tribunal where I could be tried.” The words felt difficult in his mouth.

He felt thankful,  _so_ thankful, Satine had forced him into discussing this before now, looking Kenobi in the face the while.

“Not that the Republic would have jurisdiction anyway.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head. “Neither does the Empire, for that matter.”  
“That only leaves one option.” Anakin braced himself. “Local justice.”

He felt the storm of emotion that seized Obi-Wan.

His Master stood, turning away from them both, the gesture abrupt and torn.

“Hand you over to another tribe of Tuskens?”

“It's the only option,” Anakin pointed out.

For a long moment Obi-Wan didn't say a word.

Anakin suspected it was because his Master didn't trust his voice enough to speak.

Finally, the older man broke the silence. “You know them. I don't. What would they do to you?”  
“Torture me, and then kill me.” He stood. “They had my mother for a month before she succumbed to her wounds. And she hadn't done anything to them.”

Obi-Wan's shoulders curled forward and his head drooped. “What they would do to you would not be justice, but more vengeance.”

They waited, as he thought.

And then he turned, looked from one to the other. “Since justice seems to be out of reach for now, perhaps we should focus on atonement. Justice may be an option some day. And then we can turn ourselves in to face the consequences of our decisions. Until then—”

He drew in an unsteady breath.

Anakin felt to his core how unqualified Obi-Wan felt to be settling this.  _He's not like those who_ wanted  _Jedi to sentence criminals. He believes his role should only be that of mediator._

“—Until then we will focus on preserving life. Every species. Whether they've wronged us or not. From our galaxy, or from another. We work towards ensuring their freedoms and futures.”

Satine stood and sent him a nod, almost in time with Anakin's own.

Obi-Wan tried to meet her gaze, but eventually his eyes turned away.

With heavy steps, he left the room.

Anakin moved to follow, but Satine lightly caught his arm. “Wait.”

He stared at her. “But he didn't say he forgave you—”

A flood of pain struck him through the Force. It nearly took him to his knees.

“He has forgiven me,” Satine said, matter-of-fact. “He does not hold a grudge, nor will he allow himself to harbor anger against me. But his trust is broken. And that is what made us work.”

Anakin stared at her in horror. “You...  _knew..._ that would happen?”  
“There were two galaxies' worth of people in the balance,” she said simply. “It was a risk I had to take.”

“He  _has_ to take you back,” Anakin protested. “He's head over heels in love with you—”

“I'm glad he embraced you.” Satine's smile was so genuine, through her own pain, that it gutted Anakin.

_How can she think about_ me  _when her heart is breaking?_

Satine reached out and gripped his shoulder with a metal-covered hand. “Thank you for listening to me. For trusting me.”

“I don't think— He  _can't—_ Eventually, he'll— Satine. That sounded like a goodbye.”  
“I'm going to drop you two off at the Palace, and then leave.”

“But we  _need_ you still—”

“No. You don't.” Again, that terrible smile. “Obi-Wan can hold his own in any negotiation out there, and he can politic like the best of them. You have a mind made for war. With you by his side, he will be invincible. And if there is something he cannot do— I doubt Kenobi will hesitate to do  _for_ him. Humility will mend most of the rents that might ever occur between you.”

“Satine—”

“You're set. Not just according to Thrawn. I went over his calculations, and I looked at it from my own angles. You're in as good a place as you're going to get. It's up to you three now.”

Anakin shook his head. “Where are you going to go? Home?”

“I do not belong there anymore.” She shrugged. “Perhaps it's time to return to the only thing I ever really had any talent for.”

“Politics?”

Amusement sparked in her eyes. “Oh, Anakin. I bluffed my way through almost all of that. No. I'm a mercenary.”

In the doorway she paused and looked back at him.

Anakin felt stunned by the vulnerability in her face and in the Force.

The vulnerability she, the consummate warrior, was allowing him to see.

“Take care of him. Please.”

“I promise.”

She pulled her buy'ce over her head.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Guide
> 
> Buy'ce (Pronounced /BOO-chay/) = Helmet


	18. Chapter 18

 

Anakin stood at Obi-Wan Kenobi's elbow as the Emperor secured peace.

It felt like home, actually.

In a strange way, it felt right.

But in the middle of seeing hope actually  _return_ , something he'd believed impossible—

Something was very  _wrong._

Missing.

Obi-Wan hadn't tried to stop Satine from going.

The leave they took from one another was formal. Polite.

_“Thank you, for all you have done.”_

_“Of course.”_

_“I will respect Mandalore's neutrality, of course.”_

_“That is appreciated.”_

It had driven Anakin to the snapping point.  _“You can't just let her_ go  _like that. She's the best thing that's ever happened to you—”_

Obi-Wan hadn't even glanced at him before he gave Satine a nod and headed back into the Temple.

Satine had sent a longing, aching look after Obi-Wan, then given Anakin a tiny smile before she was up the ramp of her ship and gone.

And left Anakin grieving inside.

He wouldn't have thought it possible, but he  _missed_ her.

Worse: he missed the effect she had on Obi-Wan.

His master was grim. Grieved.

He had the whispers of suffering all through his signature that Anakin had grown up knowing.

Only now, it was  _worse._

Anakin understood why, now.

Then, there had been vast distances of space between himself and his love—

But they had always been together in spirit.

Now...

There was an abyss separating their souls that no amount of physical proximity could overcome.

And Obi-Wan was mourning the loss.

Not aloud.

And not to the point where it might interfere with his astounding workload as Emperor.

But it marked him.

Two months in, the novelty of being second to the Emperor had lost most of its charm. He liked the deference given him, of course, and it was pleasing to be the one person who really  _knew_ Obi-Wan when there was a sea of people who  _wanted_ just that...

But there was a lot of paperwork involved. And really boring meetings.

And press conferences. And interviews.

And an insane amount of drivel.

Obi-Wan had thrown himself headfirst into it.

With Satine missing, Kenobi hadn't been all that thrilled to hang around. He would drop in for consultations about their new neighbors, but he had no interest in being present.

On the days when Obi-Wan simply refused to surface, Kenobi would spar with Anakin until the Jedi could barely breathe.

There seemed to be a fire driving the Yuuzhan Vong that made it impossible to sit still.

Anakin had noted that during sleep, the Force-signature was always missing.

He suspected Obi-Wan was too weary of dreams to be willing to risk it.

Obi-Wan was currently in a meeting with Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, and several other freedom-focused politicians, working on their one-year-plan, as well as their thirty-year-plan. And maybe a few touches on the one-hundred-year-plan.

Anakin almost had press his palms to his eyesockets to keep the orbs from falling out of his head.

He escaped almost before the greetings were over. He felt Obi-Wan's quiet gaze on his back as he fled, and sensed only a vague wonder from him as to where he might be going.

And then even that was gone, bending the knee to his focus.

As much as Anakin loved his Master, he wanted to get  _away_ from here. Very far away.

Maybe help Satine with a few jobs.

Or tear off towards the edge of the galaxy and try to find Ahsoka.

Anakin sighed and shrugged that thought off.

Obi-Wan permitted very little in the way of security.

_The instant I get too far away is the moment Maul is going to make his move._

Even if he  _didn't_ leave, the Sith was eventually going to run out of patience.

He found himself staring at gigantic stone boots.

Really?  _This_ is where his feet had carried him?

He threw his head back to take in the statue of the Emperor.

Obi-Wan had all but flatly refused—

But the citizens of Coruscant, having decided he was the reason they weren't slaving away in Yuuzhan Vong worldships by now, raised it  _anyway._

Anakin grinned to himself. He liked it.

Mostly because it annoyed his master.  _Both_ versions of him.

“Guardian Skywalker.”

Anakin felt a shiver run down his back as he turned to face the individual approaching. “Duke Kryze.”

Korkie winced.

_How much do you know—?_

“I think my Aunt might be in trouble.”

“That I believe.”  _She seems to like to cause it._ “Is there any reason to think she won't be able to take care of it herself?”

Korkie stepped closer, moving almost as if he would pass Anakin, perhaps crash into his shoulder at the same time. Right before the collision he paused, leaned closer, and murmured without allowing his lips to move, “Sith.” And then he was walking away.

_We're being watched. Or there's a possibility of it._

So Anakin moved in the other direction, while his mind worried.

Not only did Maul want the galaxy.

He had a desire to hurt Obi-Wan.

_Hurt him as badly as he was hurt._

Thing of it was...

Maul's focus on himself meant that what Obi-Wan had done to him had resulted in the most pain, emotional and physical, that he'd been able to fathom.

_If he cut off Obi-Wan's legs and left him in a trash heap for a decade, it wouldn't destroy Obi-Wan's soul the way it did his._

Maul would know that.

If he wanted Obi-Wan to feel the same pain he felt, the kind that gnawed away at his mind as long as he drew breath, he was going to have to find a different cause.

_We've been waiting for him to make his move. What if he already_ has _?_

He needed to talk to Obi-Wan.  _Now._

 

* * *

 

The urgency that surrounded Anakin in the Force drew Obi-Wan like a moth.

It wasn't hard to get the Emperor to give him a few minutes in private.

At Anakin's words, Obi-Wan's face drained of all color. “Let's— let's not dive in headfirst, Anakin. Maul plays the long game. The more hurried we are, the more likely we'll play right into his hand.”

_I wasn't suggesting we rush out there with no direction._

_You're speaking to yourself,_ he realized.

And that, more than anything, made Anakin hurt for his friend.

Obi-Wan paced to the window, but found that ' _Force-awful'_ statue, so he spun away just as quickly. “She's not a pacifist anymore. She hasn't bound herself to helplessness.”

“She's good,” Anakin admitted. “But Maul is...  _very_ good.”

Obi-Wan brushed that off. “She always held back when sparring with us.”

“What? No, Obi-Wan. You don't—”

“You have never seen what a Mando can do to a Force-wielder when there is murder in her heart and no real desire to live. There is nothing else in the universe like it.”

_There._

Obi-Wan may have been wounded, may have turned away from her—

But with those words hanging in the air, Anakin  _knew_ he still loved her.

“What do you want to do?” Anakin asked.

“We need to find Maul.” Obi-Wan swept to the window again, having forgotten his reason for abandoning it. “And, failing that, we need to find her. What does Korkie know?”

“I'll get him.”  _That_ was something Anakin could do.

Find and retrieve.

Take out anything standing in the way.

If he ever chose the underworld, he wouldn't be a merc.

He'd be a retrieval specialist.

“Figure out our next move, Obi-Wan. We have an empire we can use, this time. And you have me.”  _You never took me each time you tried to best him._   
He looked back at Anakin, and there was gratitude bleeding through his drawn expression.

Anakin knew it wasn't for the  _empire_ comment.

So the younger Jedi simply gave him a stern nod, and moved to find the young Duke.

 

* * *

 

He didn't find him.

He could find no trace of him.

Frustrated, worried, Anakin returned to the former Temple.

As he ran up the steps, he saw a spray of crimson across the floor. His footsteps faltered, and then he raced forward.

Rounding the corner, he found clones, lying shattered against the floor.

His heart pounding a counterpoint to his terror, Anakin surged into the room—

And found nothing.

As his eyes took in the emptiness, his Master's signature vanished from the Force.

“ _No_ !” Anakin's fist made contact with the closest pillar.

The marble exploded away from the Force-filled blow.

_Satine wasn't the bait._

Obi-Wan  _is the bait._

_To catch Satine._

_And maybe even me._

An image, of his Master standing alone above a desolate plain, his heart screaming at the loss of those dearest—

Ice settled into Anakin Skywalker's heart.

This was not something he was going to permit.

He needed to contact Satine. They needed to coordinate their attack.

_She wouldn't have left me without a way to send her a message if Obi-Wan needed help._

She hadn't left in a rage.

And she'd known the likelihood of separation ahead of time.

He yanked out his comlink. “This is Guardian Skywalker. Shut down  _all_ traffic in and out of Coruscant's atmosphere, and the system.  _Now._ ”

As he raced for the security center to review the holocam footage, he searched his memory.

_“Perhaps it's time to return to the only thing I ever really had any talent for.”_

_“Politics?”_

_“I bluffed my way through almost all of that.”_

Bluffed.

_“No. I'm a mercenary. Take care of him. Please.”_

He growled. If there was a hidden message, he wasn't  _getting_ it.

_I don't know where to look for Satine. I don't know where to look for Maul._

Bluffed.

Merc.

Take care of him.

The floor seemed to fall out from beneath his feet.

_She never left._

The only thing she'd ever really had talent for  _wasn't_ taking orders from someone handing out money.

_She was too devious for that, even in her younger days. She and Obi-Wan met as teenagers. She was already refusing to walk the path of a merc. She was thrown out and disowned and hunted because she_ wouldn't  _play the part of a merc._

He'd been looking at the pieces wrong.

_Bluffed._

_Only thing I ever really had any talent for._

_Take care of him._

He froze.

That might be just convoluted enough for her.

He turned and charged back the direction he'd come.

_I better be right about this._

When he reached the room Obi-Wan had been taken from, he let his eyes fall shut and listened for the Force.

The death of the clones clouded the whole area in darkness.

Obi-Wan's pain and his fear for Satine added another layer of confusion. This room had been  _steeped_ in them.

He opened his eyes.

_I've been looking at the room from the wrong angle._

He moved to the window and turned around.

He could smell the faintest hint of jetpack fuel.

_She's already hunting for him._

If she'd been here when Maul took Obi-Wan, there would have been signs of a fight. According to his master, a spectacular fight.

_Why wouldn't she collect me first? Comm me, at least?_

Could she have run after them, refusing to pause and think?

Anakin tried to review everything he'd seen her do over the last several months.

_I've never seen her do anything without a plan._

_And she almost kept up with Thrawn._

_And she knows me._

What was she expecting him to do?  _Without_ having to be told? Something that communication might  _threaten_ , instead of assist?

Anakin's brain felt like sludge.  _I'm not thinking fast enough._

He stared out at the statue and struggled.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan awoke to a pounding headache, and found himself held upright in a containment field.

At least this one wasn't spinning him around.

“I said I'd come with you,” he grumbled. “Why knock me out?”

Maul moved to stand beneath him, amber eyes gleaming in the semi-darkness. “To provide a sense of urgency in your Padawan.”

“Where is Korkie?”

Maul's eyes traveled to something behind Obi-Wan, just out of his range of sight. With a light motion of his fingers, the Sith brought it around and dropped it at Obi-Wan's feet.

Obi-Wan grit his teeth as he stared down into the lifeless eyes of Satine's nephew. “And why do that?” he asked, his voice threatening.

“To provide a sense of urgency in your Mandalorian.”

“Why would you care either way?” Obi-Wan tried a shrug, but the field, holding his wrists out to the side and down, made it difficult. His pulse hammered in his brain, the pain unrelenting and settling in for the long haul. “We are estranged.”

“Really?” Maul laughed, low and breathy. “I have a feeling she's unaware of it.”  
“If you think that by murdering Korkie you're going to drive her into doing something reckless—”

“That's all she  _ever_ does,  _isn't_ it? Embracing pacifism was reckless, facing down Death Watch while refusing to fight was reckless,  _returning_ to her Mando heritage was reckless. Remaining just outside of your perception was reckless.”

_What was that last one?_

Awareness of a presence he craved so desperately washed across Obi-Wan's mind.

It was tight with fury. Shot through with grief.

And very,  _very_ deadly.

_No, no, no,_ he begged.  _Stay back. Stay out of this._

_Get Anakin. Get backup—_

A smile crossed Maul's face. “Can you feel it? She isn't hiding.”

_You_ should  _be. Satine, don't do anything stupid,_ please—

But they were already past that point, weren't they?

_She shouldn't have let Maul know she was coming._

“Listen to that silent threat.” Maul's smile widened. “For too long, the Sith have been without their wardogs. Death Watch is a pathetic shadow, unworthy of the job.”

“You want her to work for you? Offer her money, then.” Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at him.

Maul circled him, a slow, predatory prowl. “Tempting. But her loyalty lies first to you.”

Scorn flooded Obi-Wan's system. “You are painfully out of date. She is a merc, first, last, always. I don't suppose it occurred to you to wonder  _why_ she wasn't by my side the last two months?”

“You drove her away.” Maul paused behind Obi-Wan.

Every muscle in the Jedi's body tensed, hating the fact he couldn't see his enemy—

“But a predator driven from the light keeps to the shadows. Close. Always close. Always waiting to move in again.”

“What? So I'm her prey?”

“You have always been her prey.”  
“I confess to being slightly confused. I was under the impression that you had a feud with me and wanted revenge.” Obi-Wan forced his voice to be arch. “And yet it seems I'm simply bait.”

“You took  _everything_ from me,” Maul hissed, moving again so he could stare into Obi-Wan's eyes. “You took my  _place,_ my  _family—_ ”

“Must we do this? Fine. I can play. You killed my father. I took your legs. You killed people I was sworn to protect. I took your brother's arm. You tried to take Mandalore. Sidious killed your brother. You killed  _many_ of my brothers and sisters. Sidious killed your mother. How long must we whittle away at one another? I have no quarrel with you, Maul. I have no interest in fighting you.”  
“Really.”

“We don't have to be enemies.” Obi-Wan held his gaze, and kept his Force-signature nonthreatening. “Sidious killed your family. He killed mine too.”

“You still don't get it,” Maul snarled. “A man can have  _anything_ if he is willing to sacrifice for it—”

“You are not the first to say those words.”

“—and I  _was willing._ I was apprenticed to  _the_ most powerful being in the galaxy, and I would  _become him_ . Take his place. You took  _that_ from me.  _That._ And you not only denied it to me, you've taken it  _yourself_ ! You killed Sidious and  _took his throne!_ You don't even  _want_ it, you're just occupying it so  _I_ can't have it!”

“ _Why_ ? Why do you want it?”

“A  _Jedi_ would never understand—”

“This isn't a want. It's a  _need._ Why do you  _need_ it?”

Maul scowled up at him, refusing to speak.

“Do you think it will break your chains?”

The silence turned brittle. “And what would you know about that?”

“I know about the chains in your mind,” Obi-Wan said, voice quiet. “I know how you seek passion to gain strength, strength to gain power, power to gain victory. I know victory is not the end goal.”

Maul's eyes glittered. “How do you know our code?”

“Do you know mine?”

An almost-smile touched Maul's face. “Of course.”

“Why shouldn't I know why your Order struggles the way it does?”

Thrawn's words, from what felt like a lifetime ago, whispered through Obi-Wan's mind.  _“To defeat an enemy you must know them. Not simply their battle tactics._

_“Their history. Philosophy._

_“Art.”_

“The chains. Do they hurt?” Obi-Wan murmured.

Maul's face drew taut. “Always.”

“Who put them there?”

Maul's breathing grew heavy, but he didn't answer.

“Did Sidious break free of his chains? He ruled the galaxy. He obliterated the Jedi. He had armies to command, and the throne. He had his revenge. You worked by his side against the Yuuzhan Vong. Sidious  _did_ it. He won. He had his victory. Were his chains broken?”

“You are trying to manipulate me.”

“No. I know you're going to kill me. I want to know. Did the Force free Sidious?”

For long moments the Sith stared up at him, his eyes unblinking.

“Once you've killed Anakin and Satine and I, and taken the throne, what then? Tighten your control over the galaxy, punish those who stray— but what happens if that doesn't break your chains? Once you've obliterated your competition, where will there be victory great enough to free you?”

Maul's breathing shifted again. Quickening.

“Is not the goal of the Sith to become ever better? Is it possible to become better without struggle?”

“I can  _take_ the galaxy from you.  _Everything is in place._ ”

“I know. I have no doubt you can. I want to know if it will free you from the chains.”  
“Why this pretense,  _Jedi_ ? Why pretend you  _care_ ?” scoffed Maul.

“You are a sentient being. In chains. I'm a Jedi. Of course I care.”

“You would chain me to your _own_ code.”  
“No. Your code has merit.”  
Maul's eyes widened, and a disbelieving laugh rang through the room. “My. Look how you've fallen.”

“To believe in something until your being vibrates with it? Such a thing certainly does bring strength. I have nothing against strength. And yes. Strength brings power. Power is what you define it to be. And even I seek victories, I simply define them differently. Who doesn't want to be free?”

Maul took a step closer. “You and I have nothing in common, Jedi.”  
“We have  _everything_ in common, except that you are fueled by a desire to help self, and I am driven by a similar overwhelming need to help  _others._ ”

“You are  _weak._ ”

“Weakness is a matter of perspective.”

“How can you try to befriend me while your lover's nephew lies dead on the floor?” There was curiosity in the murmur.

“Because the ancient feud between Jedi and Sith is meaningless. It has been pursued to the extinction of both our Orders. As the only Jedi left and the only Sith left, there is no-one to dictate how we must proceed.”

“You want peace,” Maul chuckled. “Peace is a  _lie._ ”

“Did my Order hunt the Nightsisters?”

“No.”  
“Why?”  
“You tell me.”

“Light and dark do not require annihilation of the other. But I will defend others with the devotion you defend yourself with. I hold nothing against those who wish to pursue their own interests.”  
“I pity you,” Maul mocked. “Ruling a galaxy you don't want.”  
“Hate me, if it breaks your chains. But it's been fifteen years. Has your hatred of me broken them yet? Has it even weakened them?”

A silence that might as well have been a  _no._

“You have allowed Sidious and a hatred of me define you for so long. Why not define yourself?”

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dears. We're coming close to the end (probably Chapter 22), just so you all know.

Maul was not used to this strange ache in his soul.

It reminded him too much of when Savage died.

He was angry when his mother fell, but that was because she was  _his,_ and that was something else taken away without his permission.

But he  _missed_ Savage.

When Sidious' sabers went through him, for a moment Maul had thought he  _himself_ had been stabbed.

It made no sense.

What  _had_ made sense was the anger and hate that rushed to aid him in the ensuing fight against his master.

Aid...

But they hadn't saved him, in the end.

Only fear of discovery as people gathered had driven Sidious away from his beaten former apprentice.

The timing hadn't been right for a reveal.

Take, take, take.

Everyone who had ever come across him wanted to  _take_ something from him. Many of them did. Sidious had taken the most...

Savage hadn't been like that.

He'd wanted to  _give._

Tiny beams of light flickering through his darkness.

Maul had tried to break him of it, had tried to purify that darkness—

_“I'm sorry, brother. I'm not like you. I never was.”_

And here was Obi-Wan. After  _everything,_ asking to be allowed to  _not_ take.

Ready, waiting to give.

Ventress had succumbed. Look where  _that_ ended up.

“Do not listen to him,” his mother hissed, inaudible to the Jedi. “We are so  _close,_ so  _ready—_ ”

_And what is it_ you  _want from me?_ he wondered.

A mother who only started the search for him  _twelve years_ after his loss?

She professed so much  _care,_ so much  _love,_ so much need to  _avenge him—_

_But where were you when I roamed through a labyrinth of garbage and screamed my mind away?_

And the man she  _claimed_ was his brother...

She'd damaged his intellect. Suppressed it, broken it to try to hide his light.

Maul had never gotten to know the quick mind his brother  _used_ to have.

All of this... to retrieve a powerful playing piece. One her enemy might not see coming.

_I'm nothing but a pawn to you, Mother._

He'd thought he knew the reason why.

She wanted to be avenged upon Sidious, and their son was her best chance of doing so.

_But Sidious is gone._

_And still she has her fingers in my brain._

She had no interest in breaking his chains.

Could  _this man_ really want to see him free?

And he had a point. Through all of the writings and teachings of the Sith...

_Not one of you succeeded. Not one of you broke free._

They talked about it endlessly, were always  _so close—_

Never there.

Sidious certainly hadn't freed himself.

“He wants you to lower your defenses, so his guard dog can sneak up on you!”

And  _now_ his mother would never  _shut up._

He was tired of carrying her with him wherever he went.

A  _new_ chain.

Always two Sith: one to embody power, the other to crave it—

If he was the one  _embodying power_ ...

Why did he still  _crave_ ?

His thirst wasn't slaked, and the burning in his mind that had begun in the refuse tunnels still plagued him, making it difficult to  _sleep,_ sometimes even to  _breathe—_

“He cannot put that fire  _out._ What he offers is a  _lie._ He would seek to  _control you,_ my son!”

_And how is that different from you and father? I have_ only  _ever been a weapon, manipulated by one or the other of you—_

The chains' claustrophobic hold strangled tighter—

The fire turned to acid, eating away at his sanity—

It had  _won,_ once before—

What were the odds of finding freedom from this torment by way of the usual interpretation of his code? No-one had done it before.

“The Jedi  _lies_ !” warned his mother. “He  _cannot_ quench this flame!”

Maul surveyed his mind.

Once his pride and joy, the one thing that was truly  _his—_

Saw the wrecked tatters burning around him. Something he could no longer rely upon, something that  _preyed_ upon him—

Kenobi's hand, outstretched, offering a way out—

_“There is no way out!”_ both parents would scream.

_I am not_ bound  _to you!_ he raged.

The hell that consumed him from the inside out dug deeper.

“Can you throw my mother out of my head?”

Obi-Wan's eyebrow twitched. “I don't know. But together we could access possibilities neither could attempt alone.”

And then a cloying green obscured Maul's vision, and—

 

* * *

 

Maul's eyes seemed to spill a venomous mist.

_Ah. That would be the mother._

When the Sith's mouth opened, it wasn't the velvet tones of the zabrak that emerged, but a rasping, feminine hiss.

“ _You would corrupt my son,_ Jedi.”

“Do you love him?” Obi-Wan asked, acutely aware of the fact that he was very efficiently  _contained._

“He cannot have the throne as long as you live!”

Obi-Wan saw the saber ignite, saw the blur of crimson and poison—

He let loose a focused burst of power to knock Maul aside—

As blue and gray exploded in from the other direction.

The two opposing forces nearly canceled one another out, and plasma pierced his side.

A strangled grunt escaped him, the stunning pain of the blow clouding his mind—

As if from a great distance, he sensed Satine's fear for him.

And her burning need for revenge.

“ _Don't_ hurt him!” Obi-Wan growled through the throbbing—

Satine ignored him.

“He's  _possessed,_ Satine,  _do not hurt him_ !”

“He murdered Korkie,” she thundered back. “And Qui-Gon, and he tried to steal Mandalore!”

“He's  _broken_ , and been  _used_ by the people who should have  _loved him._ ”

The wound's insistent stinging began to burn.

Obi-Wan twisted his head to look down at himself as best as he could—

Saw a green fog spilling from the wound. “Oh, kark.”  _Not good._

Maul was bleeding, stumbling against the force of Satine's attack. Jetpack. Kick, flamethrower— two blaster bolts, flechettes—  
The serrated discs carved wounds across his bicep.

“ _Satine—_ ”

“I'm sorry, Obi. If he lives, he will only hunt you again. He will take the throne, and he will kill you or Anakin. I will not allow it.”  
“Don't you  _dare_ kill him,” he snarled back. “Did you hear  _nothing_ of our conversation?”

“I heard it  _all._ ”

“The spirit possessing him,  _she_ is the enemy!”

Satine didn't answer.

“ _Maul._ ” Obi-Wan grit his teeth against the creeping mist. “You're stronger than this. You  _don't_ have to let Mother Talzin do this to you. You were conditioned to submit to her, but you  _do not have to. Passion,_ Maul, you want to be  _free_ . Take strength from it. Use the power it gives to reassert control over  _your own body._ Go for nothing less than victory, Maul. Break this chain—”

“ _Obi,_ ” Satine remonstrated, “you  _want_ me to have to fight a fully-functional Sith—?”

Maul took a leap away from her, lip curling in a silent snarl as the jetpack kept him from receiving even a moment's respite.

But the Mando's words seemed to have reminded the spirit that her expertise  _wasn't_ a Sith fighting style.

No wonder she wasn't giving a good accounting of herself.

And then tattooed lips muttered strange phrases and Obi-Wan felt panic explode in his chest. “ _Satine—_ ”

He tried to shove Maul with the Force to throw him off balance, distract the incantation—

And stifled a scream as the green mist infecting his wound retaliated.

Gasping for air as it relented, Obi-Wan saw green electricity surge into Satine's armor.

Saw the jetpack throw sparks as its systems fried.

Felt a new stab of terror.

The balance of power had just tipped in a very different direction.

The last time Maul had lost his mind,  _one_ thing brought him back.

_“The depths I would go to to stay alive,_ fueled  _ by my singular hatred for  _ you _...” _

When Maul had been unable to remember his own name, remember a life other than agony and refuse—

One thing had reached him.

_ Maybe it can reach him again. _

Not quite sure he believed he was going to try this, he made a massive grab for the Force.

Again the Nightsister magick sank agony into his bones, as if it would melt them from the inside out.

This time, he allowed himself to scream— scream in a way he never allowed.

Scream the way Maul had craved.

For a moment, he felt a flash of distress from his amphistaff— apparently no longer unconscious, but feeling very far away. At the same time, a familiar hum, channeled and muffled, reached Obi-Wan. Like an echo of another's thoughts.

And then his mind wasn't coherent enough to sort through  _ any  _ of the signals his eyes were sending. Or even to remember that he'd had an objective.

Or that his love's life hung in the balance.

There is no plan, there is only pain.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Obi-Wan heard was the sound of his own ragged breaths.

After that, came a cry.

_ Not  _ his own.

He dragged his eyelids open and found the two warriors, frozen.

The green had vanished from Maul's eyes, leaving them their true gold. Filled with pain from a wound Satine had just dealt, using his own saber... and in their depths flickered an edge of desperation.

Satine moved, the saber casting her in a bloody glow—

“ _ No _ !” Obi-Wan yelled at her.

She froze.

Without taking her attention off her opponent, she spoke. “If I knock him out, his mother will take over again. You are wounded.  _ Badly.  _ I need to release you from that field and tend to you, or you may die. That would turn me away from him.”

“Satine,” Obi-Wan breathed, his fear fast blocking out all memory of physical pain.

“For fifteen years, he has been driven to hurt you in the worst way he could find. If I turn my back, he will kill me.”

The Sith's decayed gaze flicked away from the Mandalorian to the Jedi. Not a muscle in his body moved.

“If he killed you, that would destroy me.” Obi-Wan braced himself. “But please, do not kill him.”

“Why?”

It wasn't a challenge.

It was a legitimate request for reasons to submit to death.

Obi-Wan read the tone, all it  _ meant— _

He tried to still the trembling in his hands. “I want him to have a chance to free himself. No one deserves to live in chains.”

For a long moment the silence stretched tight.

And then she gave him her answer.

“I love you, Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi  _ hated  _ what he sensed she felt.

She turned away from the Sith and used the saber to slash the controls holding Obi-Wan up.

 

* * *

 

Satine felt no fear.

In fact, she felt very little except for grief.

The estrangement weighed heavy on her soul, something that ate away at her like acid.

For her to die while they were so distanced from one another...

It would hurt him.  _ Terribly _ .

_ I wanted our hearts to grow old together, love. _

She had to drop the saber to catch Obi-Wan's falling form. She braced herself, refused to let his weight knock her over.

And then she lowered him to the floor, drawing her bone-hilted knife to cut away the tunics to see to the wound—

Making her hands move as quickly as they possibly could.

If these were her last moments, she wanted to give her beloved jetii as good a fighting chance as possible.

This injury was ugly.

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka felt the silence of the dreadnaught keenly.

Outbound Flight had been a system of five ships, bound together, bellies in to create one massive transport.

This was the ship that had been on the bottom when it crashed— the one guiding all five.

The one furthest away from where the passengers had gathered.

It took a while, but her tinkering with one of the consoles finally paid off.

Holograms sprang to life, the only light in the broken bridge other than the illuminators she and Thrawn had brought.

Ahsoka had been ten years old when Outbound Flight left their galaxy to explore what lay beyond.

She recognized the face of C'baoth.

But the  _ other  _ figure...

She sent a covert glance to Thrawn.

He'd been younger...

But it was unmistakably  _ him. _

Ahsoka watched in growing horror as she began to recognize something terrible inside Jorus C'baoth.

Something that reminded her of Pong Krell.

Instead of falling off the mountaintop of Balance because of selfish love leading to hate...

He toppled off the other direction.

He just  _ didn't care _ about  _ anyone. _

Selfishness again... again, the dark...

But in a completely different way.

She watched Thrawn lay down the line, and waited for disaster.

Watched C'baoth's arrogance and need to  _ dominate  _ those who were less  _ wise  _ than himself insist on pushing Thrawn.

Ahsoka now knew this blue-skinned man.

Knew he didn't make idle threats.

Knew that with this invader refusing to respect the authority of the Chiss Ascendancy...

It was like watching a horror holovid.

The endpoint was already set in stone.

Ahsoka watched as disaster unfurled, revealed only in the ship-to-ship communications.

She could sense more than she could see.

The other Jedi, trying to interfere, to pull C'baoth back from the brink of his self-centered insanity. His rabid insistence on trying to start a war while commanding a ship full of civilians.

The way the man bullied his way through, a mini emperor in his own right. Disregarding the crew, the ship's captain, and everyone else around him.

She felt the despair, here, when they realized they couldn't stop him.

The desperation as they tried.

And then it happened.

C'baoth reached Thrawn's point of no return.

And the Chiss fired on ships filled with families.

_ Children. _

Ahsoka felt her heart shudder as long-dead readouts told the tale.

“When did you realize Thrass was on board?” Ahsoka whispered.

Thrawn's face, still as stone, had just a flicker of pain. “Not soon enough.”

Ahsoka rummaged through, found one last recording that might play.

It replaced those prior.

The security feed of this room, minutes before the crash.

A young female Jedi knight...

And a young male Chiss.

Ahsoka felt her throat close as she watched them  _ decide. _

As they rolled the ships, to try to spare the lives huddling above their heads.

As they  _ knew  _ what was coming.

And then, as it hit, and the feed died.

_ We didn't find any survivors in the top ship. _

The broken skeletons had been a mute testimony.

_ There's no way Thrass and the knight made it. _

Ahsoka rose from her crouch and shone her light around. Given trajectory—

“They're probably over here,” she murmured, leading the way around a bank of consoles.

There.

Two skeletons.

A lightsaber, lying shattered beside the one.

Ahsoka sucked in her breath, feeling her heart ache.

_ I'm sorry, Thrawn. _

Part of her wanted to be angry with him, for the lives lost here. It had been so  _ pointless. _

But most of her mind simply  _ hurt. _

Thrawn's people had been threatened by a force they hadn't known existed.

He took what steps he could to defend his home.

_ C'baoth was to blame here. _

Thrawn stood, looking down at what remained of his brother.

_ Even with that being the case, Thrass died trying to save innocent lives. _

_ Lives it would have been easy to relegate as  _ invaders,  _ and reject. _   
_ He chose to take the brunt of this crash,  _ knowing  _ it would kill him, knowing he was giving away his only chance of survival. _

To be honest, Ahsoka saw whispers of each brother in the other.

Thrass, seeing the difference between the colonists and Jedi, and C'baoth. Giving his life for those who could have  _ easily  _ been labeled the enemy.

Thrawn, fighting to save the Yuuzhan Vong just as much as defend against them.

_ There aren't many people out there like you. _

So she let her heart hurt with Thrawn.

_ You managed to save so many... but not Thrass. _

“I'm sorry, Thrawn,” she murmured.

She could sense the pain that didn't make its way to his exterior. The hollowed-out anguish. “No recriminations for what I did to your people here?”

“You did what you could with what you knew at the time.”

“My people did not think so.”  
“They exiled you?”  
“There were other factors. Other people. Other events.”

Ahsoka thought she heard the tiniest sigh escape him.

“They could not accept me.”  
“They are safe from the Yuuzhan Vong now. Or should be, according to your timeline.”

Thrawn gave her a nod.

“Why did you let the Empire happen?” Ahsoka crouched down and lifted the lightsaber crystal from where it lay. “Surely you saw it coming.”  
“Your galaxy had to be united, if it was to have any hope of surviving. The Senate was too fractured. Palpatine was your best hope of unification.”

Ahsoka bowed her head, having  _ known  _ ahead of time what his answer would likely be...

It didn't make it easier to hear.

“You let him murder the Jedi. Ten thousand innocents, all in a night. Children.” Ahsoka closed her fingers over the crystal, felt its sorrow over the loss of its person. “If we hadn't formed an alliance with Palpatine, if we had tried to overthrow him... you would have fought alongside him against us. Wouldn't you.”  
“I would have destroyed anything that threatened the cohesion needed to face the Yuuzhan Vong and survive.”

Ahsoka felt the edges of the stone in her hand cut into her palm. “One more question.”

She felt Thrawn's gaze shift to stare at her.

“Would you have fired on Outbound Flight if you knew Thrass would be trapped here?”  
“Yes. My people were at stake.”  
Ahsoka gave a nod and stood up. “You have a lot of blood on your hands, for the man who orchestrated the saving of a galaxy.”  
“I never claimed to be a hero.”

Ahsoka rested her hand on his shoulder and sent one last look at the two dead forms that lay shattered on the floor. “You're going to be cast as a villain. Always.”

“That I can endure.”

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, wonderful people. I had a burst of clarity and wrote like a crazy person. I now know this story will end with chapter 24, and I'm hard at work getting the first draft of that 24 done. I have draft 2s of the rest, so it will be a matter of bringing them to 3 before I can share them with you.

Obi-Wan lay shivering on the floor, consciousness all but gone.

The pounding of a hundred boots across the floor sounded like music to Satine's ear, and then a lightsaber's growl, joined quickly by a second.

“Get away from them.”

“ _Wait._ ” Satine lunged upright, throwing herself between the rescuers and Maul. “Let him go.”

She saw the amphistaff, coiled tightly around Anakin's arm, readying to spit—

“ _You._ ” She pointed an inexorable finger at it. “Don't even think about it.”

The snake glowered at her, clearly rebellious.

“Obi wanted him to go free.” Satine yanked her helmet off. “Medics, _here_ , now.”

Two men rushed forward to tend to their emperor.

“ _Satine_ ,” Anakin warned, a furious, killer gleam in his eyes.

One she recognized very well.

“I _know._ ”

“ _No._ Either he _dies,_ or he get locked up. No other options.”

“He goes _free._ ” She spun on her heel and leveled Maul with cool appraisal, her eyes murderous. _Unless he hurts someone._

_And then the deal's off._

Every instinct inside Satine urged her to use her proximity to this man to send a blade into his throat.

Amber eyes met hers.

He knew. He knew it _all._

It earned her a tiny smile.

 

* * *

 

Maul didn't actually expect them to let him walk out of there.

He expected it even less when Satine handed him his saber.

Trying to hide his stunned disbelief, he simply strode for the door, waiting for the blue stun bolts to take him from behind—

They never came.

It was impressive, the loyalty Skywalker and Kryze had for Kenobi.

Impressively foolish, and didn't say much for their chances at continued survival, but...

What would it feel like, to have such loyalty aimed for you?

To know you'd... _earned_ it?

Savage had adored his brother, and would have followed him into hell and back— practically _had—_

_But that was because he didn't know any better._

Maul slunk into the shadows, trying to figure out just _what_ had happened back there.

 

* * *

 

Anakin paced, alternately hating himself for listening to Satine, and freaking out about Obi-Wan.

Still in surgery.

_It's been too long. Far too long._

They'd tried to corral the amphistaff, but the snake would _not_ be parted again from its person, and had managed to force its way into the operating theater.

There had been a few shrieks, and Satine had barged in to calm everyone down...  
And come back out without the snake, assuring Anakin the situation was as stable as it was going to get with a serpent hovering over the surgeons, watching every move like a shriek-hawk.

That was several hours ago.

He turned to the Mando, who'd crouched opposite the operating room's door upon leaving, and hadn't moved in the time since.

Her legs _had_ to be killing her. His would, if he tried that.

“You said it wasn't serious,” he worried.

She looked up at him, and in an instant, he knew she was just as tightly wound. There was a cold in her eyes that had nothing to do with a lack of feeling, and everything to do with utter focus, born of terror.

“The wound wasn't. The blade missed anything _really_ important—”

—He wondered what Mandalorians counted as disposable—

“—and the heat cauterized the wound. Minimal internal bleeding, and he shouldn't be septic. Poke around, patch it up, bacta if you're a privileged wimp afraid of honest scars, and that's that. Alcohol to drown the pain. I've been the sole doctor for wounds just like that a dozen times.”

Anakin winced, so thankful she'd never had the chance to operate on _him._ “What do you do when you _don't_ have a bottle handy?”

“The patient sings while someone else sews him up.”

“Did Obi-Wan ever experience that kind of... _care_?”

“Yes. Wonderful voice.”

“Then what's wrong?” He crouched down in front of her so he could look her in the eye.

“I think he's poisoned.”

Anakin frowned. “Impossible. Lightsabers _can't_ poison, by definition. It's not like you could coat the blade in something.”

“Maul was possessed by his mother at the time. A Nightsister. The _Matriarch_ of the Nightsisters. Who also happens to be dead.”

Anakin shook his head. “I don't get it.”

“There are strange things out there, Anakin. The modern Sith is tame compared to the osik they used to get up to. But Nightsisters... they didn't forget.”

“I met some, once. They had issues.”

Satine didn't crack a smile. “They have power.”

“Thought you said she's dead.”

“That's not much of a hindrance to some people.”

“So... she poisoned him with _what_? A spell?”

He'd meant it in a sarcastic way, but the look on Satine's face—

“Now is not the time to get all superstitious,” he blurted, more for himself than for her. “He's going to be fine. He's tough, and he's stubborn, and he's survived far too much for _this_ to bring him down.”

“That word, _superstition._ Invented by individuals who believed that if they mocked something and pretended those who believe are absurd, darkness would indulge their arrogance.”

“Those hated scientists, huh?”

Something akin to compassion wafted across her Force signature and softened her eyes. “Hold on to your confidence that the universe is explainable, young one. Far be it from me to damage your faith.”

“No, no, no. _I'm_ not the one being unreasonable, here. The Force only works in specific ways.”

“You did not learn such folly from the Jedi, and certainly not from Obi. So I am at a loss as to where you picked it up from.”

And he had no idea what to say to _that._

“How did the mind-link go?”

Grateful for the change of subject, Anakin shrugged. “I found the amphistaff unconscious underneath the table. Don't know if Maul thought her dead, or forgot about her since he can't sense her. Minorly terrifying, trying to wake her up.”

A flicker of a smile tugged at Satine's lip.

“She came to and didn't blind me, so that was a plus. I figured that since she's telepathically linked to Obi-Wan, she could tell me where he was. But since I couldn't sense her, I had no way of actually _starting_ such a link.”

Satine tilted her head, reminding him of Kenobi. “Clearly you found a way.”

“Yeah. I asked her to initiate it. I can still feel a buzzing in my head.” Anakin winced. “I've tried shutting it down, and I can't hear Obi-Wan through her anymore, but I don't know if I'll be able to get disconnected.”

The thought was actually less horrible than he would have expected.

  
* * *

 

Anakin felt the floor drop away from under his feet as he stepped into the recovery room.

Obi-Wan lay cuddled in black sheets, eyelids half-mast, and just a bit squirmy. His amphistaff lay stretched beside him, its body pressed up against his, chin resting on his shoulder.

It was the pallor that horrified his former apprentice, and the hollows beneath his master's eyes.

“You look terrible.”

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at him. “I'm so glad you told me.”

Satine was already by his side, lifting the sheet and peeling back the dressing.

“The doctors are going to hate you, darling. They just finished putting that on.”

She swore beneath her breath, softly and long.

Anakin took several steps forward. “What—?”

Satine trailed her fingers through a green mist that seemed to be infecting Obi-Wan's wound.

“ _What is that_.” Anakin's inflection dropped instead of rising.

Satine placed her fingers against the skin surrounding the wound.

“ _Force_ , Satine, you're hands are burning up!” Obi-Wan yelped.

Her expression only turned more grim. “No, but you are ice.”

“Satine. What is it?” Anakin asked again.

“Nothing to worry about,” she murmured. “Something science will explain in due time and no doubt find a cure for.”

 

* * *

 

Satine feigned interest in what the doctors were saying.

Anakin certainly asked enough questions for the two of them.

She already knew what they were going to say.

They would use seven-syllable words to explain concepts that had two-syllable meanings, and hope their listeners didn't know enough about anatomy and medicine to call their bluff.

Sound important enough, and you could hide what you really meant.

_We don't know._

But Manda forbid they actually _admit_ such a truth.

“We need to bring in specialists, other doctors—” Anakin started in.

With a nervous gesture, one of the white-coated men stopped him. “We have, Guardian Skywalker. One reason our initial examination took so long. The droids are completely out of their depth, and we need to run further tests. If you could obtain the weapon that inflicted the wound, we could—”

“The saber would give you nothing.” Satine shook her head in impatience.

A very polite sneer crossed more than one face.

“I'm sure you're very good at what you do. Killing things usually takes little finesse. In our line of work, we choose to be a little more methodical and less haphazard.”

Anakin's face twisted in a scowl. “That was uncalled for.”

“Emperor Kenobi's ex-bodyguard is a beautiful weapon. No doubt. But it would be better if she left the thinking to those of us who actually experienced schools, not to mention universities.”

“Get _out._ ”

Satine hid the surprise she felt at Anakin's command.

“Sir?” The doctor's face couldn't hide _his_ shock.

“I said, _get out._ ”

“We're not done discussing the Emperor's condition—”

“You said you didn't know what was wrong, and that you've already had as many consultations as you could think of. You've said plenty.”

The man huffed. “Well. Considering if the pleasure toy had been doing her _job_ , the Emperor might not be hurt in the _first place—_ ”

Satine heard Anakin's snarl rumble at the base of his throat.

In a moment, the antechamber had been cleared.

“I didn't need you to defend me,” Satine said into the silence.

Anakin shrugged, still clearly furious. “That's irrelevant. I don't let _anybody_ talk about _any_ of my friends that way and let it pass as okay.” He turned and headed back to Obi-Wan.

Satine gave a tiny smile to herself.

Long memory. Short fuse.

The boy was half Mandalorian and didn't even know it.

 

* * *

 

Anakin tried to hide his anger, knowing from prior experience that his loud emotions only caused an injured Obi-Wan distress. His master had trouble shielding when in pain, and the effort to block out Anakin's chaos always drained him.

“Satine. I want you to get ahold of Bail. I need to speak with him. We're going to have to speed up the plan. Anakin. You have the charisma. You can hold things together long enough for Bail to make his move. Don't worry. He and Satine can help you sort out the politics of it. All you need to do is exude confidence, grief, and a charming smile. And you're coming along quickly with the Yuuzhan Vong language. Satine will take care of teaching you what you still need to know of it.”

Cold shot through Anakin's soul. “What are you talking about?”

“Worst case scenario.”

_You're lying._

_You don't think there_ is _a best case option._

“Obi-Wan, it's just... green mist. We're going to figure it out.”

“Yes. I have the utmost confidence in the medical experts,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Anakin, Palpatine destroyed the Archives. I don't know if we had anything on this anyway. Everything Sidious knew he kept locked away in his own head so others couldn't access it. The Nightsisters have been obliterated. The only one left is Mother Talzin. Who, I might add, has very little reason to share with us the means to healing.”

“Yeah, well, the last time I thought you were going to die, you grew a new hand and some back decorations we still haven't come up with an anatomical term for.”

Obi-Wan's expression sobered as he no longer tried to mask his intent. “Anakin, it would give me great peace of mind to know we're prepared for anything.”

Anakin felt a sickening sense of having _been_ here before.

He could almost smell the vomit-reeking air of a dead planet, and hear a broken Jedi whispering requests to die.

_I fought him then._

_I'm sick of fighting him._

“Alright,” he said, ignoring his master's stunned surprise. “But that had better include getting right with Satine.”

The Mando in question drew herself up and back several steps.

“You were unconscious on the floor, a hole burned in your gut, and Korkie—” Anakin hesitated at the flare of pain in the Force from Satine. “And in spite of all of that, she demanded we let Maul go free. I think that had something directly to do with you.”

Obi-Wan's eyes sought out the woman in question.

“She could have killed him. Or simply stepped aside and let _me_ kill him. Or the clones. You were so out of it you wouldn't have noticed if we killed a _planet_ . I know you think you can't trust her, but I don't think _I_ could have managed to do what she did. Frip. I still think I shouldn't have listened to her.”

Except that he knew that given the opportunity, he would make the same choice again and again and again.

He wasn't going to kill, actively _or_ passively, against Obi-Wan's wishes.

_Not this soon after he's forgiven me for the Tuskens._

_I might be an idiot, but I'm not stupid._

“You protected him?” Obi-Wan asked quietly.

Satine didn't answer. She simply watched him.

Anakin shook his head. “Yeah, Obi-Wan. She protected him. _And_ she made sure we didn't lock him up somewhere _either._ We let him go _free._ ”

Just a tiny bit of color returned to Obi-Wan's ashen face. “Thank you,” he whispered, looking at his beloved.

Satine lifted her head, studying him... evaluating...

“I could hold you at arm's length for months. But we've already done that, haven't we. When you felt I broke your trust in becoming a General. Those months were hell, Satine.”

An eyebrow arched, a head bowed in agreement.

“Whether this is it or not, I don't want to spend another moment without you. Not if you'll have me.”

The leap her soul gave in the Force stunned Anakin even as her face simply flickered into a wry smile.

_What is_ with _these two and understated expressions?_

And then she was leaning over the bed, pressing eager, hungry fingers against the side of his face.

At that point, Anakin knew he was intruding, and quietly slipped away, stunned to find the serpent weaving between his feet, joining him in his flight.

 

* * *

 

Maul didn't say a word as he prowled into the darkened sickroom.

It took Kenobi far too long to sense him.

Exhausted blue eyes opened to find his, and a faint smile lit the face. “Hey.”

“You're clearly delirious. That wasn't the right response.”

Kenobi's instinctive laugh choked off in a wet cough. “I take it Anakin doesn't know you're here.” “We wouldn't be _alone,_ if he knew.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I'm trying to prepare him, but he's in denial. Again.”

“Can't imagine why. You've died every time you came close to death before.”

Another racking cough that should have been a laugh.

“Come, now. You can sense it. Death. Smell it, even. Hell. Even Satine can sense it and she's Force-deaf as a post. Well. Let's get started.”

Maul arched an eyeridge.

“That _is_ why you're here, isn't it?” Kenobi struggled to sit up, but couldn't _quite—_

Maul found his hands propping up pillows, then helping Kenobi move to lean against them. _What in hells am I doing?_

“Thanks. I've been thinking about strategy. Qui-Gon was possessed once, long ago. Not Nightsister magicks, but possession all the same. I mind melded with him, so it was the two of us against the invader. It worked, though the details are a bit hazy for me.”

Maul pulled back, eyes narrowed. “Mind meld? Such a thing is not possible.”

“That's what I thought. And then it happened. My faith in the laws of nature have been irrevocably shattered, I'm afraid. So. Are you willing?”

“If it truly _is_ a mind meld you speak of, I would have the opportunity to see _anything_.”

“It goes the other way too.”

Maul shook his head. “You are risking your closest-kept secrets. You have no idea what I might do with them. And you risked your lover's life for me.”

Seeing the Sith expected an answer, Obi-Wan offered, “I was raised by Qui-Gon Jinn. He always gambled big.”

“Like refusing to wait for help when he needed it.”

Maul scrutinized the reaction as it happened. The almost-concealed pain. The brief flare of rebellion.

It settled into resigned grief, a quiet humming in the Force.

“Yes. Like that,” Obi-Wan said, voice so very quiet.

Maul watched him for a long moment, trying to figure out just _what_ game the other man was playing. “You're insane, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you're not the first to call me that. And it's taken you an embarrassingly long time to figure it out.”

 

* * *

 

“I don't like this, Satine.”

Anakin could sense the Mandalorian's agreement.

“I hate leaving them alone. Especially with Obi-Wan so weakened.”

“Maul is the only living link to the Nightsister heritage and there's no way in hell he'll talk if _we're_ in the room. We distrust him too much.”

“Obi-Wan has enough trust to fill a cruiser.”

Satine sent him a wry glance. “Perhaps you shouldn't complain about Obi-Wan's willingness to trust people who have proven untrustworthy. It's the only reason he's allowed us to remain by his side.”

Anakin clamped his lips together.

She _did_ have a point.

But he could only maintain the silence for so long.

“Did you have him try healing last night?”

Satine sent Anakin a _look._

“Of course you did.” Anakin shook his head and returned to his pacing. “Where else can we _look_ ? What if Maul can't help— even assuming he _would_ if he _could_? Could Kenobi heal him?”

“Kenobi can patch himself together _physically._ Slapping coral over the wound is not going to help.”

Anakin growled. “I'd feel a lot better if Obi-Wan would have let Kenobi loose during his imprisonment.”

“Come now, Anakin. Kenobi would have goaded Maul, and let us kill him. Obi-Wan's not stupid. He figured he was the only one who could save the Sith, so there was no way in hell he'd let the Yuuzhan Vong out.”

“Yeah,” Anakin sighed, “but Obi-Wan wasn't built to deal with that kind of pain. And it's still there, eating away at him. I can sense it. He's had so _much_ , I'm just sick of him having to take it when there's somebody available who actually _likes_ it.”

“With that, I'd have to agree with you.”

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild spoilers for Knights of the Eternal Throne. Arcann & Senya stuff. If you have no idea who I'm talking about and have no interest in playing Star Wars: The Old Republic, don't worry about it.
> 
> Also, mega spoilers for where Ventress's story is left in the Dark Disciple novel.

 

 

The Jedi lay gasping for air, eyes unfocused, his ribs forming a tight cage to crush his lungs.

Maul allowed himself a slight shake of the head. _This isn't going to work._

So far, Obi-Wan had made several different attempts— he'd even called the Mandalorian into the room, and tried something _else,_ which resulted in him completely disappearing from the Force.

The two lovebirds had chatted in what sounded to Maul's ears like the Yuuzhan Vong language, and his old enemy seemed to try something _new—_

Maul had felt a slight tingle in his skull—

And then the man had collapsed against the bed, simply trying to breathe.

“I'm assuming it didn't work?” Kryze spoke up.

Maul made a more defined head-shake. “He does not have the strength.”

A turbulent presence threaded with dark lines appeared in the doorway behind Maul.

_Skywalker._

The younger man almost seemed to fidget into the room. “Can you just tear the information out of Talzin's mind? How to heal him?”

“Aggressive, for a Jedi,” Maul murmured, throwing him a look.

Skywalker glared back. “Well? Can you?”

“No.” Now _Maul_ scowled. “We need a strategy.”

“Or a place,” Satine murmured. She gently stroked the back of Kenobi's hand as he tried to regain a consistent hold on consciousness.

Maul sensed Obi-Wan's return to the Force. _Uncanny._

“There is an old legend, passed down through the ages. Mandalore was once part of an Alliance that held both Jedi and Sith.”

“You speak of the Eternal Empire?” Maul asked, surprised.

Satine inclined her head. “There was a man infected with anger and hatred. His mother took him to the world of Voss, and there the healers toiled over him while their world burned. But he was healed.”

A slight wheeze drew Maul's attention back to the bed.

“If you want to try Voss, we better move now,” Obi-Wan said, his voice barely a whisper.

Maul slid out of the way as both Skywalker and Kryze converged on their wounded companion, ending in a mild stare contest.

“Let Anakin, this time,” Obi-Wan pleaded. “I don't want to be slung over a shoulder, I don't think I'd be able to breathe.”

Kryze gave him a nod and stood down.

Skywalker gathered his former master in his arms like an oversized infant, and was out the door in a couple seconds flat.

Not entirely sure how much faith they should put in legends of an ancient overpowered family, Maul followed.

 

* * *

 

“We would speak with your healers,” Satine announced.  
“Jedi, a Sith, and a Mandalorian. We have not seen such a convergence in a long time. Come. Follow me.”

“Why have I never heard of this place?” Anakin hissed.

Obi-Wan grimaced. “Because you daydreamed your way through my attempts to teach you Force-related history.”

“It was boring.”

“Only _you_ would find the oscillating fate of a galaxy _boring,_ ” Obi-Wan snarked back.

Anakin was about to lay Obi-Wan on the altar when one of the Voss surrounding it stepped in his way. “We can do nothing for _him._ ”

“What?” Anakin frowned. “Don't you have some ritual that can cleanse darkness, or something?”

The Voss looked to Maul. “This man shares his body with a decaying spirit. Him, we can help. The power that has claimed your Jedi friend, it is bound to a planet, and we cannot help.”

“Can you at least try? _Please_?” Anakin reigned in his growing dismay and despair.

“It would waste moments he cannot afford. Leave your Sith friend here, and we will heal him. But the Jedi must go to the planet this infection gains its power from.”

Satine gave a single nod of her helmeted head. “We'll return for you, Maul. Anakin, back to the ship. Dathomir it is.”

“You better keep your word,” Obi-Wan mumbled in Anakin's arms. “Whether _I_ make it or not—”

“Of course, Dear,” Satine soothed.

“There's no one _there_!” Maul warned.

“I know,” Satine called back.

“What do you think you're going to—”

But then they were outside and couldn't hear the rest of the question.

Anakin deposited Obi-Wan on the bunk on the ship. “Maybe you can let Kenobi bear the pain for a while. Maul's not here, so he can't re-make that schism.”

“No, sorry,” Satine interrupted. “The planet needs to sense the Jedi in him. Cockpit now, Anakin. Listen to me closely: I suspect he will grow rapidly worse the closer we get to Dathomir.”

“Then what in hell's name—”

“So what you need to do is fly this thing like a podracer and get us there and on the surface as _fast_ as you can. We're going to take Obi-Wan out and lay him on the ground.”

Anakin stared at her like she'd lost her mind. “ _What—_?”

“No _time_ to explain! I'll try to keep him stable; _go._ ”  
And Anakin obeyed.

* * *

 

Satine felt sick.

_What if I'm wrong?_

Obi-Wan lay still, barely breathing. The green mist had spread as they approached the planet, his body trembling with fever.

The vapor, encircling him so completely, almost obscured his features.

Anakin had been stunned when he gathered him up.

And now Obi-Wan lay on the cold, red dirt, apparently unaware.

Satine hated the sensation of eyes watching her, even though she _knew_ the inhabitants had been massacred.

There were eyes all the same.

And they were hostile.

“This place hates us,” Anakin murmured. “Even _you_ feel it.”

The amphistaff wrapped itself tightly around Satine's neck seal, shivering.

A thousand whispers, just indistinct enough to be indecipherable, hissed through the air.

Satine stood very still and _waited._

“He's going to _die—_ ”

 

* * *

 

A sea of pain.

His body, so far away. He could somewhat see images, almost hear the words spoken by his loved ones, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak.

He wanted to protest. The darkness was so much _louder_ here—

It reared over him, wanting to complete his destruction—

Then hesitated.

And then it slid around him, cradling him close, the whispers turning to soothing croons.

_Hello again,_ he thought _._

And then all awareness fled.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell was _that_?” Anakin yelped, watching the mist drain away from his master's body.

Satine sank to one knee, and now _she_ was the one who forgot how to breathe.

_Thank you. Thank you._ Thank _you._

She felt the serpent around her throat trembling, probably with relief, and patted it. _He's going to be okay._

“Obi-Wan's penchant for reaching out to the unsavable just saved his life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What did he tell you about Ventress' final days?”

She could almost feel Anakin's gaze on the back of her lowered head. “He thought she saved the Order.”

“Yes. He did. And yes, _she_ did. Obi-Wan opened the doors to give her the chance to step out of her own personal hell. He didn't lead her through, but he stood by her, every step of the way. And when she died, he was the one who sheltered Vos, who insisted they be allowed to return the body to Dathomir, to be given Nightsister rights as best as could be accomplished, when her people were dead.”

Anakin scuffed a foot in the dirt. “Yeah. That sounds like him. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Anakin, like many planets steeped in the dark side, Dathomir has an awareness all its own. When he came here with the body, he was stunned because the darkness, instead of resisting him, welcomed him. It didn't try to change him, but it didn't see him as an enemy either.”

“That makes very little sense to me.”

But the words weren't said in a challenging tone, just confusion.

“Obi-Wan returned its daughter, allowed her to rest with her sisters. He was no enemy.”

“O-kay—”

“So I took a gamble and thought that if it recognized him, it might draw away an attack that belongs to _it._ Since he's not an enemy.”

Anakin collapsed to the ground on Obi-Wan's other side and stared at her across the body. “Wow. Just— wow.”

Satine shook her head, feeling the stern resolve she'd been operating under since Obi-Wan's kidnapping begin to shatter.

Laughter took them both, painful, heaving guffaws.

“We are crazy,” Anakin choked. “Absolutely _crazy_.”

“Welcome home, Anakin. Welcome home.”

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this, and then the epilogue.

“Where will you go?”

“I do not know.”

Ahsoka watched the calm face, amazed at the words he'd just spoken. “The Ascendancy won't take you back, after all you've accomplished?”  
“No. And I have no reason to return, anyway.”

“Do you have anyone to go to?”

“You mean a...  _friend_ ?”

“Yeah.” Ahsoka watched his brow furrow just a bit.

“There is a man I once held captive. He might be willing to see me as one.”

_That's it, isn't it._ Ahsoka tried to hide the pitying, marveling smile that wanted to steal across her face. “And what will you do when you find him?”

“Oh, I know exactly where he is. He's been rather ambitious within the underworld. Perhaps he'd be willing to give me a job. He's seen me command a ship.”

“ _You_ , in the underworld?” Now Ahsoka laughed. “Well, well. And once you have this coveted job— smuggling? Am I right?”

Was that an  _upward curve_ to Thrawn's lip? Really?

“What then? What do you want to do?”

Any sign of a smile vanished. “I—” He paused, thought for a long moment, then began again. “I have been trapped all my life. In the Ascendancy, and once I left. There was always an objective. Something that required everything else to wait.”

“So captain your smuggling ship, but make time for the things that have had to wait. When you close your eyes, what do you wish for? What ridiculous, crazy dream did younger Thrawn used to have?”

His eyes widened, just a little.

When he spoke, there was a spark of  _life_ in his normally analytical voice. “I would like to visit every museum and art gallery your galaxy possesses.”

“Then listen to me very carefully.” Ahsoka saw Thrawn's head tilt, just a little, trying to read her intentions. “As you work your way through our galaxy's museums and art galleries, finding all the tiny planetary institutions the rest of us have no idea even  _exist_ ; when you step into tombs a living individual hasn't set foot in for thousands of years and look up at the carvings on the walls to read the lives of those people in what they left behind— let yourself  _enjoy_ them. Don't let your mind automatically seek out all the ways you could destroy us. You had to do that for survival. Remember what it felt like to just  _appreciate_ art for yourself, and do  _that._ ”

A strange expression crossed his face. “You care, Ahsoka Tano.”  
“Yeah.”

“In spite of everything I've done.”

“I guess there's just some parts of being a Jedi I can't escape.”

“Are you a... friend?”

“Definitely. And if that ex-prisoner of yours doesn't turn out to be reasonable, I'm sure I can set something up with a different smuggler ring for you. You have my comm frequency. You need help, you call. Or if you just want company while walking through some museum.”

“I will not forget. Allow me to return the favor of honesty you just bestowed upon me. You need to speak with Skywalker at least once more. Face who and what he is.”

Ahsoka sighed and looked away. “I'm afraid of what he's done and what he's capable of doing in the future.”

She almost  _sensed_ his arched eyebrow.

“You managed to befriend one murderer. You are not the child who walked away from him.”

_No. I'm not._

“Our mentors and heroes are rarely as perfect as we believed in the innocence of childhood.” Thrawn's voice was almost gentle. “Sometimes, they may have even done the unforgivable. But it seems to me that you are perhaps one of the few in this galaxy who is capable of forgiving in spite of that.”

The tightly-wound knot of impending disaster that Ahsoka had wrestled with ever since that terrible night on Mortis twinged again.

_I took that warning._

_I didn't remain his student._

_But does that mean I must not be his_ friend _?_

Ahsoka drew in a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“It is what I have observed friends to do.”

“Maybe that can be a goal for you. Make a few more before the end.”

 

* * *

 

“Won't you stay a while longer?”

“No, Chancellor. I've had quite enough.”

“You made a good politician.”

“That's the problem. If I  _hadn't_ been, they'd have let me  _go_ by now—” Bail's interrupting laugh warmed the former emperor's heart, even as he sensed anxiety in the much taller man. “You'll be  _fine_ .”

The other gave him a nod, apparently not quite trusting himself to speak.

Obi-Wan gripped his forearm, and made his escape.

He could hear Satine in the cockpit, warming up the engines.

Anakin met him in the hold as the loading ramp closed.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan looked ragged. “Get me out of here.  _Please._ ”

“Just name the system, Master.” Anakin moved close and wrapped him tight in a hug, ignoring the soft noise of protest. “I think you'll find two of us ready to go anywhere you name.”  
“Do try to not exaggerate  _quite_ so badly—” Obi-Wan lightly pushed, trying to extricate himself—

But his former student just held him tighter. “Force, I love you.”  
He smiled as he felt as well as heard the pained hum.

“It's okay, Obi-Wan. You don't have to say it. I can sense it.”

And at  _that_ point, some of the tension fled from his best friend.

Anakin let go and tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes.  _We made it. Somehow... we actually made it out the other side._

“Hey.” Obi-Wan's voice held infinite compassion. “We're alright.”

“Anakin!” Satine's voice called from the cockpit. “Incoming message from Ahsoka.”  
He gave his master one last smile and moved passed Satine in the hall.

He was met by a tiny blue holo of his former apprentice.

“Hey, Anakin. I'm back on our side of the universe, and thought we should get together some time and catch up. Have a time and place that might work?”

Relieved,  _so_ relieved to hear her voice, and eager to see her in person, Anakin offered, “We're headed for Voss...”

He couldn't help his smile at her immediate response.

“Where in blazes is  _that_ ?”

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan could sense the Force gathered tightly around Anakin and Ahsoka. The intensity of it almost felt like an ache in his mind. His symbiont fingers twitched.

He stood at the top of the landing ramp, wishing Satine stood beside him.

Voss was a beautiful planet, and with Anakin and Ahsoka off somewhere having a talk that was apparently quite a bit more weighted than Anakin had been expecting, and Satine prowling around to make sure Maul wasn't staging an attack...

Obi-Wan sighed. It was difficult to stand alone and see beauty these days. Ever since Order 66.

Jedi delighted in nature. Contact with it healed their souls and brought warmth and life.

_Not anymore._

Now it just reminded him of all of those lost.

“Memories?”

Obi-Wan looked up, found Maul at the base of the landing ramp. “Perhaps. You ready to leave this place?”

“Hmm.” Maul glanced over his shoulder at the rolling hills and collection of tall buildings. “I'm not sure of that.”

“Taken a liking to the native population?”

Maul breathed a laugh through his nose. “I don't know yet. I take it Dathomir spared you?”

“Yes. She did.”

“The story of why is something I'd like to hear sometime.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head. “Certainly. Speaking of; there used to be a weight hanging over you. I'm not seeing it now.”

“Curious people, these Voss.”

For a long moment there was silence, and Obi-Wan simply tried to enjoy the fact that they weren't gearing up to kill each other. No matter  _what_ Satine thought.

“You're thinking of her,” Maul asserted.

Obi-Wan's eyebrows flicked. “What?”

“Do you have chains? In your mind?”

“Yes. I'm afraid I fabricated several for myself throughout the years.”

Maul tilted his head to the side. “I seem to have gotten rid of at least five.”

“Ah. And the others—?”

“I am Sith,” Maul returned with a smile that stunned Obi-Wan just a bit for the sheer reason that there was no malice in it. “I will not stop until I've found a way to break the rest. I am simply curious if you think it may be time to break one of  _your_ chains.”

Obi-Wan felt a whisper of movement through the Force and saw the smirk in Maul's eyes.  _Not being very subtle, Satine, are you? You don't_ need  _to threaten him any more._

Of course,  _need_ had nothing to do with it.

Except it sort of  _did._

“Did you have a particular shackle in mind?” Obi-Wan asked, pretending not to notice the lurker.

The smile vanished from Maul's face. He looked  _earnest,_ of all things. “When you speak of  _her,_ your eyes change. She is good for you, Kenobi. Don't let her walk away.”

“What are you saying?” Obi-Wan asked, not sure how to feel about the— to him— unexpected turn in conversation.

“When you were at a distance, it was different. Her loyalty commanded her attention span, and her sense of having captured prey entertained. If the two of you try  _living_ together... she will lose interest fast.”

Obi-Wan arched a single eyebrow, a noncommittal expression crossing his face.

“Perhaps it's time you bed your Mando, lest you lose her.”

Obi-Wan stared at him in utter astonishment. Had a Sith just offered him  _dating_ advice?

And then hilarity spilled through his eyes. “ _This_ is the chain you thought I might want to start with?”  
Maul's expression stated  _that_ was obvious.

“My decision to remain celibate isn't actually one of my chains.” Obi-Wan couldn't help his amused tone, even if his face  _was_ the color of the Sith's own lightsaber. “I appreciate your concern, but it hasn't felt restrictive in a long, long time. And since  _someone_ isn't appearing to punch you in the nose for your temerity, perhaps we could move on to a less—” Obi-Wan searched for a word. “Some  _other_ topic?”  
“Are you planning on rebuilding the Jedi Order same as it was?” Maul asked.

_Not really changing the subject, are you._ “No. Trying to recreate a destroyed past isn't the way of the universe, or the Force. If I was going to rebuild the Order, I have no doubt it would be structured differently than what was relevant on the day it fell. You?”

“An apprentice would be of little use at the moment, but I should like to leave a legacy,” Maul admitted with what Obi-Wan felt to be shocking honesty. “Perhaps once I have discovered the secret of breaking my  _own_ chains, then I shall take an apprentice to continue the Sith tradition.”

“Perhaps there won't be cause for enmity between the two Orders this time.”

“I should like that. But it wouldn't be peace,” Maul added hastily.

Obi-Wan schooled his face into a serious expression. “Of course not. Peace is a lie.”  
“More of a rivalry, I think, between the two.”

“Who can break more chains? We who focus on breaking  _others'_ chains, and you who focus on breaking your own?”  
“The two might not be mutually exclusive.”

_Thank the Force._

In all his years of being called the Negotiator, the man people claimed was responsible for spreading peace and understanding—

He'd never thought he'd have the honor of brokering  _this_ non-peace.  
Amicable bickering?

Non-murderous... something.

_Shall have to come up with a word that won't offend our dear Sith._

Perhaps the way Anakin seemed to have come to terms with Obi-Wan's need to  _show,_ not  _tell_ love.

_I don't want to hear you say it. I want to see it. Feel it to my deepest core._

Perhaps the Sith and Jedi of this new era didn't need a word after all.

A silent understanding would do.

Obi-Wan had just a flicker of warning before he saw an orange-white-and-gray streak headed his way.

That was just enough time to—

 

* * *

 

Ahsoka barreled into the man who  _sort-of_ felt like a very young grandfather.  _There is something to the idea of Jedi generations turning over twice as fast as most people's._

Many different generations had the opportunity to enjoy one another's presence for longer than other people.

_And Obi-Wan never had affection from Dooku._

She couldn't sense him, which meant that he'd dodged the hug just in time. She smiled against his chest and shook her head.

“Ahsoka,” Kenobi said, and she could detect just a  _tiny_ bit of surprise in his voice.

_What a way to wake up._

And then another pair of arms were around them, and Ahsoka had to admit to herself that it was a good thing Obi-Wan had abdicated.

There were still traces of tears about Anakin— his eyelashes were actually  _visible_ since they were dried together. There was no way Ahsoka was going to mention it to him— she found it endearing.

And then something finally sank home and she squirmed away from the embrace of the two to stare at a certain red-and-black zabrak.

“What's going on?” she asked.

“No idea whatsoever,” was Kenobi's happy response. “Watch the elbow spike, Anakin. Don't need you impaled.”

“Not sure why you had to get so prickly, once you finally decided hugs weren't the worst thing in the universe.”

“Package deal.”

“Your humor is improving, by the way.”  
“Why thank you.”

Maul was staring at them rather strangely. Ahsoka was still half-glowering at him, although she could sense no threat—

Anakin let go of him when she hissed so he could say, “It's okay, Ahsoka. He's... not a friend.”

She stared at him.

“It's complicated.”

“Obi-Wan made peace?” Ahsoka asked, disbelieving.  _With_ him _?_

“Not peace,” Anakin and Maul blurted at the same time.

“Obi-Wan keeps going on about how that's an important distinction, somehow,” Anakin offered.

“Seems I missed out on quite a bit,” Kenobi observed, that speculating humor that Ahsoka usually associated with Obi-Wan on his face.

Maul pressed a hand to his forehead. “Do you have a personality disorder?” he finally groaned.

“No, there's just two of us,” Kenobi responded happily.

_Yeah... we better keep you very far away from any minders,_ Ahsoka thought, fond exasperation in her face.

Maul squinted at the Jedi he couldn't sense. “For the love of the Force, don't turn the Jedi Order into a religion.  _Please._ ”

“Me?” Kenobi looked baffled. “ _I'm_ not re-starting the Order. And Obi-Wan doesn't share my faith.”  
Maul seemed to consider for a moment.

Ahsoka had her  _own_ thoughts.  _Kenobi seems... almost..._ giddy _?_

Not that the term  _giddy_ when used in reference to Obi-Wan Kenobi could be anything other than a sliding scale.

The symbiont sunk through his skull was a gentle pink at the moment. Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at it.

_Never seen it_ that  _color before._

Could it be messing with his brain chemistry?

Ahsoka's half-need to try to find  _out_ wavered at the thought of her grand master drunk.

_There's no reason to think that might happen,_ she told herself sternly, even while her mind  _loved_ the idea—

“I offered the other one a gesture of honesty,” Maul spoke up, his internal consultation apparently over. “It appears I may have been speaking to the wrong individual. _Bed your Mandalorian._ ”

Ahsoka stared at him in wide-eyed  _amazement—_

Anakin choked, his gaze snapping all over the place to try to keep track of everyone's faces at once—

A besotted grin spread across Kenobi's face. “An excellent idea.”  
Maul gave a little nod and turned on his heel to leave.

The members of Obi-Wan's line barely took notice of the Sith's exit.

“Kenobi?” Anakin asked, tone cautious.

The Yuuzhan Vong patted his cheek, his gaze on a nearby tree. “I'll be in the cabin.”

Two stunned pairs of eyes watched him walk away.

And then a rustle and a soft thud, and the woman in question crouched at the base of the previously scrutinized tree.

She walked past the two frozen individuals, her helmet betraying nothing, and her Force signature even less.

“Uhhh,” Anakin sent Ahsoka a half-confused, half-panicked look. “Are we supposed to do something?”

Ahsoka arched a brow marking at him. “What,  _interrupt_ them?”

“Obi-Wan made his wishes  _really_ clear a while ago in regards to Kenobi—”

“Was Satine there?”

“It was  _to_ Satine.”

“Then it seems to me that it's up to her, now. Not our business.”

Anakin considered it for a long moment. “I suppose... but if there isn't full, enthusiastic consent  _all_ the way around, isn't it rape?”

“Look at you!” Ahsoka crowed. “A few months ago you couldn't handle me saying the word  _asexuality._ ”

Anakin glowered at her, turning red. “I'm just  _saying—_ ”

“So the question is, do you trust Satine to get it straightened out?”  
Ahsoka could see his mind working... going over everything he knew about the Mando and everything he'd ever experienced with her...

“Yeah,” he finally said. “But I swear to  _frip_ if she hurts him, I'm— I don't know what I'll do. I'll take Obi-Wan and  _leave._ She can  _have_ her ship.”

“Okay then.” Ahsoka grinned. “Have something we can do while we wait instead of just standing around here awkwardly?”

Anakin drew his lightsaber and ignited it. “Care to prove just how poor your dueling skills have become since you spent the last few months gallivanting about beyond the edge of the galaxy?”

“Says the man who spent the same time sitting on fat purple pillows, being finger-fed fruit because he's the de facto son of the Emperor. I'd watch the gloating, Prince Skyguy; it's going to make your defeat all the more painful.”

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

Satine had just stepped over the threshold when she found Kenobi pushing her against the now-closed door, hands settling around her armored hips.

Even through the metal it felt so  _good._ Her pulse beat hard, thousands of years of Mandalorian recklessness driving her.

She placed her palm against the fevered man's cheek, and he instantly melted.

“There's something we have to talk about,” Satine said.

At her tone, dismay shot through his eyes.

She continued anyway. “I'm guessing that even without the aid of the Force, you can tell what you're doing to me.”

A self-satisfied grin crossed his face and he lazily tugged at her hip.

“It's not new. It's been like this since I first met him, two decades ago.”

The smirk disappeared. “Are you implying you haven't touched him?”

“Nor he, I.”

“Does he see such pursuits as sin?” Kenobi asked, dread in his voice, and also signs of resignation.

_I love this man. Every version of him._

Satine shook her head, withdrawing her palm from his face. “No. Jedi do not see sex, when it is not harming the minds or bodies of any participating, as wrong. They do not tamper lightly with the emotions of others, and they make their decisions out of selflessness instead of selfishness— that is the reason they usually avoid meaningless liaisons. The reason this particular Jedi has chosen to avoid sex entirely is because he walks a fine line of loving me, but without viewing me as  _his._ He has proven again and again that if need be, he can let me go. He is not attached, and I don't believe he will become so; but he is convinced that if we do not retain a certain measure of physical distance, he will begin to feel possessive.”

“Where is the harm with possessing if you're not attached?” Kenobi grumbled.

Satine shook her head. “What is the harm in blaspheming the gods?”

Kenobi went very still.

“You feel strongly about that. Would you be able to brush off the fact that  _this_ mouth cursed the gods, just because the Jedi doesn't believe in them?”

The look on his face  _clearly_ expressed  _that_ answer. While Satine could read reluctance all through him, his hands immediately left her waist.

“Twenty years?” Kenobi shook his head. “He managed  _twenty years—_ ?”

“While spending as much time with me as he could. Yes.”

“Why did you not leave him?” Kenobi asked, the question just as blunt in tone as it was in words.

“Because sex isn't something he  _owes_ me. No one ever owes anyone else sex. A romantic association does not mean debt.  _Ever._ He was honest with me at the beginning; he has been willing to let me seek out other individuals should I so choose— without having to decide between them and him. In spite of that freedom, I have chosen to not.”

“Why? I can feel the heat racing through your system.”

Satine allowed herself to feel how strange it was for  _her_ to be the one educating  _him._ Most of what she'd learned she'd gotten from pestering Qui-Gon until the man had been about ready to pull his hair out, and the rest she'd gotten from Obi-Wan himself.  _That_ had been like pulling teeth.

Ultimately worth it, though.

It had saved them two decades of misunderstandings.

“Because there's a difference between desiring intercourse and wanting to diffuse sexual longing.”

“You speak of the level of commitment?”

“Actually, I'm speaking of selflessness. Jedi keep close watch over their actions to make sure that the people around them are benefited, and as least likely to be hurt as possible. I couldn't find a way in which for me, having casual sex to ease the tension wouldn't be all about  _me._ ”

Kenobi opened his mouth to question where the problem lay, then decided to let her finish speaking first.

“It's simply a choice I've made, one that feels right for me. It may not be the same with Ahsoka or Anakin. Yes. This body you currently control is... it draws me. In every way. The way I see it, if sharing sex with it isn't just as much about making sure Obi-Wan feels loved, cared for and protected as it is about those things for  _me_ , then it's _all_ about me _._ He doesn't communicate romantic love that way. It wouldn't be healthy for him to give in to please  _me_ , and I've discovered that I'm perfectly capable of diffusing sexual longing for myself. In fact, I've found that most of that tension is more about my body than a desire for intimacy. If intimacy is a language that is meaningless, or perhaps harmful to the man I love, then  _that_ isn't what I want with him.”

Kenobi let out a grim sigh. “I doubt he is asexual,” he said at last. “ _I'm_ certainly not.”

“I can tell you for a  _fact_ Obi-Wan is not. And for the first couple of years, proximity was difficult for both of us. No. Obi-Wan has made a choice, based off his personal philosophy, and is happy with it and himself in connection to it. And that's just fine.”

Kenobi's head fell back. “I'm beginning to wish I hadn't been put inside a Jedi's body.”

“Ah. But now you know how  _I_ feel about intercourse. And if what you want isn't to communicate love and care in the deepest way to me, then what you're really after is release. And  _that_ you can find  _without_ pulling me into a situation where I am not being treated as a treasured half of a whole.”

Kenobi sank to his knees and lowered his head. “I would do anything for you.”

“I know,” Satine murmured as she knelt across from him. “But most of the time,  _not_ doing things is a far more precious form of love, because it costs the giver so much more.”

“You shouldn't have told me you find release on your own.”  
“Why?”  
“It puts all kinds of very difficult images in my mind.”

“Seems to me that would  _help_ your situation, not hinder.”

He eyed her dubiously. “I doubt Obi-Wan would appreciate me using your image that way.”

“Let me tell you a secret,” Satine mock-whispered. “You wouldn't be the first, and you won't be the last. I was anything  _but_ celibate before Obi-Wan came into my life.”

For a long moment he simply stared at her, and then he shook his head.

“I have never seen a love like the one you share before,” Kenobi admitted. “It's... it runs counter to everything I know.”

“It was common, among the Jedi, between Jedi. Less common between a Jedi and someone outside the Order. Most people aren't willing to take the time to learn such a vastly different language. It's easier to label it as  _incorrect_ and try to  _change_ the Jedi in question or walk away. And while there's nothing wrong in walking away... love shouldn't be about  _changing_ another person to better match yourself. It should be about appreciating who they are  _now_ in the ways that they can accept such communication, whether that be words, sex, through the Force, or a palm to a face and a kiss to the knuckles.”  
Kenobi gazed into her visor. “You are spectacular,” he breathed. “No wonder he loves you.”

“And the fact that you see me that way instead of thinking me unreasonable and  _depriving_ you is one of the reasons I love  _you._ ”

“Me, or Obi-Wan?”  
“ _You._ Obi-Wan has plenty of reasons all of his own. I'm talking about  _you._ ”

He tilted his head to the side and a small smile lifted his lips. And then he let his eyes drift shut—

And Obi-Wan returned.

For a moment the Jedi looked around, and then concern lit a fire in his eyes. “I don't like how my body feels.”  
Satine breathed a low laugh. “I'm not sure why he brought you to the surface. You might want to give him a little time. I'm sure you'll be feeling better then.”  
A tightness formed between his brows, a helpless, almost abused look entered his eyes—

“Obi-Wan,” Satine whispered, reaching out to trace her fingers across his cheek. “Have a little faith in your counterpart.”  
_Is he thinking of the time men tried to strip his mind of memories? Of his two stints as a slave? Of the drugs that made Anakin's actions not his own, or the experiments Zan Arbor performed on Qui-Gon?_

She hated the wince in his eyes that reminded her of an animal that was about to receive a beating.

“Have faith in  _me._ ”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and with an effort of will cleared his face.

His eyes still looked worried, though.

“Is it wrong of me, Satine? Is it selfish of me to put restrictions on what he is allowed to do with a body that belongs to both of us?”

“Darling, you do not owe  _anyone_ sex. Not even him. And there are things he will ask  _you_ to not do when you are in charge. The courtesy extends both ways.”

“I can sense your discomfort,” he worried.  
“Obi-Wan, while my body may have slight discomfort at the moment, my soul is _content._ Can you understand the difference?”  
She  _knew_ he could. He had been tortured in Anakin's place in the distant past, back when their son was in his early teens. Obi-Wan had revealed to Satine later by holo that while his vocal chords had involuntarily been expressing distress...

His mind had been at peace. Gleeful, even.

Every second he endured meant Anakin was safe.

And to Obi-Wan, that's all that had mattered.

“It was one thing, when we only saw one another face-to-face once every few years, and only spoke by holo or comm every few months. I'm practically living in your ship. Perhaps— I know you told me I didn't have to offer this again, but— you  _know_ you do not belong to me. You are entitled to whatever liaisons you might be interested in— you'd— and even if you fell in love with someone else—”

Satine saw the shudder that ran through his very soul, making his hands shake.

“I want you  _happy,_ Satine. I can't give you— what others— would find easy to give. You deserve better.”

Satine scowled at him. “None of  _this,_ now. Just because we're living together, sharing a room, does  _not_ mean you owe me sex. You are perfect for me;  _deserve better_ my shebs.  _Maul_ is judging our relationship based on relationships he's seen  _other_ people have. Because it seems to happen a  _lot,_ he thinks it is  _always_ the case.”  
“For me to live with you is leading you on.”

“No. It's  _not._ Because you have been fully honest with me. It hurts me that you still feel less than worthy because of your choices. You are  _exactly_ what I want. I haven't  _left_ you in twenty years because I'm  _happy_ with what we are together. It's not because I feel obligated, or because I don't know I have other options.  _This is what I want,_ Obi-Wan.  _You_ are who I want. And I want you the way you are. The you that's true to yourself, whoever that is.”

“You know who that is. Better than anyone.”

“See what I think about him,” Satine murmured, rearranging her mind with a technique she'd learned long ago—

Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat and he shivered.

Satine caught sight of his eyes almost rolling up as his eyelids fluttered shut and his lips parted.

Smiling beneath her helmet, Satine watched his expression relax as he allowed himself to bask in the light of what she felt for him.

“I don't have to move out?” Obi-Wan asked, an undercurrent of yearning in his voice.

“If I have my way, we'll never be separated again.”

“And Anakin?”

“Is welcome to stay with us as long as he wants to.”

“And what will we do, drifting across the galaxy?”  
Satine smiled. “Would it alarm you if I told you that I hacked into the governmental emergency grid? If you want to run missions to help or negotiate, we'll have a direct feed of things that the Senate likely won't handle because they aren't end-of-the-world emergencies. They only have so much time and resources.”  
“And how shall we support this endeavor?”

“Perhaps you'd be willing to run some jobs with me.”  
Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at her, blue orbs visible once again. “As mercs or bounty hunters?”  
“Most likely temporary security and bounties. If I get too restless, maybe a _little_ merc work.”

“I'll be sure to let Kenobi be the one present then.”

“I think three of us would be pleased with that.”

Obi-Wan took her hand in his symbiont one and raised it to his lips. His grip so careful, so intentional—

And the kiss he left on the armor plate on the back of her hand—

Now  _she_ was the one with the shivers.

“Am I dreaming?” Obi-Wan murmured as he let go of her hand. “I'm fairly certain that what I'm feeling wasn't meant for me.”  
“My knight of infinite sorrow?”

He studied her carefully to try to discern her meaning—

“Are you mocking me?”

“No. Perhaps that time of sorrow has come, and is now passed. Now there is simply us, a life of helping people and following the Force where it leads. And in my case, my instincts.”

“Is it safe?” Obi-Wan asked, something fragile about him. “It's been so long since I felt safe.”

“I can't promise you that you will face no more sorrow. But as long as I'm alive, we'll face it together, like we've always done. Except now, I won't be a tiny blue hologram. I'll be right  _here._ ”  
The adoration spilling through his eyes was more than enough for Satine.

“Oh.” Satine tilted her head. “Just thought of something. Want to let Kenobi in for a time? I think I'd like to teach him something.”  
“My head is going to hurt when I come back, isn't it.”

“I'll make sure he doesn't return the body to you until after the effects have worn off.”

“That is greatly appreciated.” He smiled... and Kenobi was back.

He was greatly impressed by a Keldabe kiss.

_Very_ impressed.

In fact...

Given the element of pain...

He'd just about decided that striking his forehead against Satine's own was quite a bit better than what  _other_ people thought kissing should be, and that included his own people.

Satine had to smile to herself.

_I think the three of us are well-matched._

And while Obi-Wan had been willing to—  _carefully—_ engage in that form of caress— and  _only_ when wearing a helmet, which wasn't often— Kenobi seemed to derive as much pleasure and meaning from the exercise as Satine herself.

And she had to admit to herself that when, some days later, Anakin witnessed such an embrace, she had thoroughly enjoyed his look of horror and immediate shining of light in Kenobi's eyes to try to determine if he was concussed...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was snooping around on scarleteen.com (which, by the by, I wish I'd known existed when I was a teenager; would have been very helpful) and discovered a very interesting point of view. I thought to myself, “Self, this sounds just different enough to fit Satine,” and here we are.


	24. Epilogue

_**Ten years later** _

 

 

“I repeat: is anyone out there?” Kilana asked, hearing the desperation rising in her voice.

She'd been drifting for hours, her long-range comms out, death drawing closer with icy fingers.

When training under Masters Obi-Wan and Skywalker, Kilana had  _ not  _ anticipated  _ this  _ would be her fate.

Purgil might be beautiful, but Kilana would have been glad to have gone without experiencing them.

If someone didn't stumble across her soon, by the time anyone from the Temple came looking for her, they would just find a block of ice. “Can anyone hear me?”

“Depends,” a voice murmured back. “Are you a little Jedi who lost her way?”

Kilana could see nothing on her now-intermittent scanners, and found nothing out the viewport of her fighter either. Reaching out to the Force, she discovered an intense concentration of darkness. It sent a chill through her soul to match that in her fingers. “Are you Sith?”  
“The little lost Jedi is clever,” chuckled the voice. “So, child trained by the Negotiator, explain to me why I should help.”

_ He prepared me for this,  _ Kilana thought, trying to still the trembling in her limbs and the dread in her heart.  _ All I have to do is think clearly, and speak. How would saving me benefit him? _

“What is your current mission?” Kilana asked.

“Jabba crossed my master. I'm dismantling his organization.”

“I have contacts on Tatooine I could introduce—”

She felt her fighter shudder as it was caught and secured to a larger ship.

Quiet laughter spilled through the comm. “Unnecessary, little Jedi, though adorable. The former Emperor has a fund specifically to reward us for protecting his precious padawans.”

Kilara exhaled and sprawled back against her seat.  _ Thank the Force. _

“Besides. You're my first Jedi, and I'd like to speak with you face-to-face.”  
_ And you my first Sith. _

She was definitely curious.

 

* * *

 

“What do you think?” Satine looked down at herself, clear doubt on her face. “It's a bit...  _ young _ for me.”

Anakin took a moment to consider the bright yellow dress, then smiled. He knew how to handle this; he remembered Padmé. Throw in a little Mando'a, and— “I think it's copikla.”  
He was unprepared for the snarl, the vicious chill through the Force.

His head jerked back in surprise, just a little too much motion. His chair, balanced on two legs, toppled over backwards. Sprawled on the floor, Anakin stared up at the irate former Duchess in astonishment. “I thought women liked being called cute—?” he protested.

Obi-Wan's bark of laughter in the other room caused Anakin to grimace as Satine stormed out.

His master's head peered in through the door, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “She won't be wearing  _ that _ dress ever again.”

“Seriously, Obi-Wan?”  
“ _ Cute  _ is reserved for animals and babies, Anakin.”

“You'd think I'd have learned all this stuff by now.”

“Jedi are always learning,” was his master's happy response as he disappeared again.

Anakin shook his head and let it drop to the floor.

He listened to the harmony in the Force— the content song of Obi-Wan's soul.

_ “And you, my master. What does your heart say you are destined for?” _

_“Infinite sadness.”_

For now,  _ that  _ fate seemed far away.

Anakin had grown accustomed to the lighthearted whispers of joy that surrounded his brother in the Force.

It reminded him of those brief hours he'd spent near Obi-Wan before Qui-Gon's death... only better.

_ If anyone deserves to be happy, it's you. _

And while the Chosen One listened to that quiet, insistent song, his own soul felt at peace.

 

* * *

 

As for Obi-Wan, he watched Satine walk to meet him, yellow fabric balled in her hand, a sheepish look on her face, and in armor once again.

He allowed Kenobi a moment...

And Kenobi gave it back.

The amphistaff whispered its approval through his mind.

They  _loved_ this woman.

“Can I just wear my beskar'gam to the banquet? I'm sure Bail and Breha would understand...”

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. “You will be stunning, whatever you choose.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “So the one insults me and the other is no help at all.”

“I live to serve.”

She threw the crumpled dress aside and in two steps had her palm against his cheek.

 

 


	25. Deleted Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dears. This story originally ended waaay back near the beginning, when Obi-Wan was still fused to the altar. I decided to post that original ending here as something of a deleted scene.

 

 

“Are you ready?” Thrawn asked, his voice calm.

Obi-Wan drew in another painful breath. “Yes.”

“What is pain, Yuuzhan Vong?”

Obi-Wan considered, remembered words offered what seemed like a lifetime ago. Words he'd rejected.

He reached for them now.

“Yun Yuuzhan created all, tearing it from his body in pain. Pain is his gift to us, that we may join with him.”

“And death?”

“Death returns us to Yun Yuuzhan.”

“And life?”

“Life is the gift of the gods. Life is suffering. Life exists only to bring glory to the gods. I—  _Thrawn_ —”

“Yes?”

“I  _see_ it. A world without a sky— land, meeting over my head— a—  _ship._ A world-ship.  _Colonies_ of us— no,  _them_ — drifting through space for so  _long_ — Thrawn, it's a  _memory._ A false  _memory_ !”

“Just waiting for you to embrace the gods who gave you life.”

“I— it's sucking me in. I won't— I can't—”

“It will lead you if you let it. Take a deep breath, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan's alarm built as fear blossomed. He wasn't going to be able to carry out his final desire. He was going to fail this last chance for self-determination.

Shame flooded him as he realized that to retain Anakin's friendship, he would give up authority over his own destiny.

“I can't. I can't hurt Anakin this way.”

Thrawn didn't look surprised.

Desperate hope sparked in Obi-Wan's soul. “You knew it would end up here,” he asserted. “You  _knew_ what I would choose. You built a plan to incorporate it. You have a way to turn this into a victory after all—”

“The plan has not been compromised,” was Thrawn's soothing response.

A glint of something caught Obi-Wan's attention, and he tried to see what Thrawn held in his hand. “What is that?”  
Thrawn didn't reply.

Instead, he allowed it direct access to Obi-Wan's line of sight.

And then Obi-Wan  _knew._

“ _No,_ ” he rasped, already feeling the pull at his mind. “ _No—_ ”

 

* * *

 

Thrawn watched as the Jedi struggled to retain control over his mind.

All Thrawn had to do was weaken that vigilant guard.

They'd already seen how eager the Yuuzhan Vong memories were to take over.

Suppress the Jedi just a little, and it would be enough.

Fortunately, Thrawn's obsession with the native cultures of a thousand worlds had turned up some very curious, if arcane, sciences.

And the device in his hand, moving with a calming rhythm and making a repetitive sound, had no metal parts, so the symbionts did not resent it.

Fortunately, enough of the Jedi's brain remained human to be able to trigger an area that would send him into a dormant, suggestible state.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan had no idea what the thing was doing to him, but closing his eyes made it  _harder_ to focus. It felt like being forced into a sleep— a sleep from which he would  _not_ awake—

The panic started coming back, the type that had assailed him in the early months of his stay here.

He couldn't help himself. He tried to pull away.

For the millionth time he tensed his muscles, screamed for the Force, and thrashed.

And the people watching from the balcony would never know, because not even a quiver betrayed his effort.

His vision went white shot through with blood. His mind shrieked.

His gut convulsed, and then he was losing empty fluids and sludge the creatures had pumped into his stomach.

Shuddering, he tried to hold on to his memories, his identity—

But he didn't have the Force.

He was so tired, and the pain was infinitely worse now that he'd pulled against his restraints— it alone drove him to the brink of unconsciousness—

And something was pushing upwards, out of the depths. Creeping, reaching, ready to steal his soul.

_Anakin—!_

But his brother was gone.

Had left him.

Gnawing at his tongue, trying to use the taste of blood to center himself, to hold on—

Thrawn's calm red gaze never left his face.

It was the last thing he saw as Obi-Wan Kenobi as he was shoved under, and emptiness claimed him.

 

* * *

 

A month later, Thrawn approached the altar for the final time.

The pieces were in place. He had what he needed.

Now he had a promise to keep.

The Yuuzhan Vong snarled at him, blood-stained eyes glaring.

Thrawn refused to take refuge behind a blaster.

Not for this, a mercy that was long overdue.

He used his hands.

He kept eye-contact with the broken man until the last flicker of life had drained away.

The Jedi might not have had the strength to continue on.

But that didn't mean he hadn't saved them all.

Thrawn bowed his head in acknowledgment, then walked out.

Skywalker would be returning soon.

Thrawn planned to be long gone, so the younger Jedi could mourn in peace.

The last living creature on the entire desolate planet, his footsteps echoed as he passed through the doors one last time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason I didn't go for this ending is because while I was half asleep an image popped into my mind of Obi-Wan unfolding and standing up, looking like a Yuuzhan Vong. I groaned and hoped to forget it, because that would mean scrapping this and completely re-hauling my outline. But the image just wouldn't let go, and then ideas came to form around it...
> 
> So here we are. But I'm glad this didn't get completely thrown out. After all, I did like this ending.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes. The epilogue none of us (least of all me) were expecting. And then, trying to do something else, I remembered there was one last story thread I'd forgotten to address in this story. Instead of berating myself for a "mistake" I decided to address said thread head-on.

 

 

“It's time,” Satine murmured.

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan one last time, gripping his hand tight.

“Whatever happens in there, I'm with you, every step of the way,” Obi-Wan whispered, voice thick.

Tears blurred Anakin's vision as he dragged Obi-Wan into a desperate hug.

“I'm so proud of you,” his master choked.

Anakin sniffed and blinked hard, memorizing the feel of Obi-Wan's arms around him, holding him tight against the outside world.

The universe knew, now.

It knew he'd killed the Tuskens outside of war time.

The trial had been held, the reporters avoided, and now Anakin stood at the door, hating the Force cuffs that bound his wrists...

But he hadn't felt this  _clean_ in years. That alone was enough to close his throat with utter gratitude.

He looked back one more time, saw his family standing there, felt Satine manipulating her mind into one final caress.

Saw their grief, dread, pride.

And for the first time since his mother's death, he could  _honestly_ look them in the eye.

He could look  _anyone_ in the eye.

He'd confessed to his crimes, and was going to submit to whatever sentence was handed to him by the elected authorities.

Ever since hearing of the prophecy surrounding his name, Anakin Skywalker had longed to be treated like a “normal” person.

As he traveled to the courtroom, he caught glimpses of the rioting crowds.

_I'm not holding myself above you anymore._

He wasn't treating  _himself_ as more special than them anymore.

This was as normal as it could get: facing the consequences of his actions.

Some of the screaming beings were here trying to show support for the hero of the Clone Wars, of the Empire, celebrated retiree in the New Republic.

Others chained themselves together, holding up signs saying  _a child is a child._ On the left side of each sign was a stylized Sand Child. On the right, a representation of one of a thousand species. Anakin had only seen a couple repeats, so someone had been organizing the hell out of this.

_You're right,_ he thought, wondering how many of them wanted him to die.

Parents turned out with their children wrapped in tan strips of cloth, their faces hidden by fabric and goggles. He'd even seen teenagers helping one another into such getup. The ages varied from there down to the smallest babies.

He'd expected to be utterly overwhelmed by the hate aimed his way, but when he listened to his heart, he realized that the only thing he could feel, something overshadowing everything else, was utter  _relief._

He didn't have to hide anymore.

In this state of calm in the midst of the roar around him, he didn't much care what his fate might be.

_But Force, please be kind to Obi-Wan and Satine._

It was only in the silence of the Conviction Hall that he finally started to feel jitters. A shaking in his hands, a need to fidget—

_Will they let me repair the droids in a high-security prison, or will that be a condition of my incarceration?_

_Or perhaps they'll kill me and it won't matter at all._

Across the distance between them, Anakin felt Obi-Wan reach out to cradle his mind with the older Jedi's own.

_I've already been cleared of any wrongdoing during the two wars, and for what happened during the regime change. Satine and I are in the clear for that. You can only push your luck so far before it runs out. We've had too much luck already._

Another familiar presence joined the first, sending out tendrils of hope and peace to him as well, along with a confidence she really  _shouldn't_ have, given the situation. He drew in a shaky breath to hold back the tears.  _Ahsoka._

_Thank you for being here._

He tried to pay attention to the formalities as they began— they might contain something important, after all, but his mind seemed to be blurring all the words together into one meaningless paste. A nauseating paste.

_Wonder what they would think if I threw up right here, right now?_

Hell, it had probably happened before.

And then it was over, and he was being led out.

_They can't have... they didn't..._

There was a process he had to go through before he could see his loved ones. He endured it somehow, and then he was on the other side, alone except for three beings spilling light in the Force—

Obi-Wan placed his palm against Anakin's cheek, everything in him reaching out to engulf his brother in utter love and relief. His silent tears sparked off Anakin's own.

Ahsoka flung herself into Anakin's arms, since they still technically had room, and pounded him on the back. “Sweet  _Force,_ Anakin!”  
He held on to her to keep from falling over, the adrenaline gone and his body starting to crash from sleep deprivation, worry, guilt that had been holding him down for years recently lifted, and sheer fear.

Ahsoka pulled back and produced a piece of delicate card stock out of her pocket. “There wasn't time to show these two before the sentencing began, I just barely got here in time, but there's this.”

Anakin accepted it as she pushed it into his hands and he squinted down, trying to make sense of the letters penned in a swirling hand.

“It's from Thrawn,” Ahsoka prompted. “It was timed to get here today, but he wrote it three days ago.”

Obi-Wan plucked it from Anakin's hand to read it aloud, since Anakin wasn't making any headway. His master didn't seem to have any trouble making  _his_ eyes work.

“It's congratulations,” Obi-Wan spoke up, understanding dawning in his voice, “on your full and conditionless pardon.”

“That's why you felt so smug in the Force,” Anakin muttered, shoving her shoulder. “You  _knew_ it was going to—”

Obi-Wan angled toward his love. “ _Conditionless._ Is that a word? I don't believe it is—”

“Obi?” Satine interrupted with a gentle smile and hand against his forehead as if taking his temperature, “I think we should get all of us back to  _our_ turf and we can debate Thrawn's grasp on Basic later.”

“Or not.” Anakin dragged a hand through his ragged curls. “I could sleep for a week.”

Satine laughed, low and knowing. “As soon as you go horizontal you'll discover you can't. It will be most frustrating. Just so you know.”

“ _Without conditions,_ perhaps  _baring conditions—_ no, that's not quite right, but—”

Anakin smiled wearily to himself as Obi-Wan tried to cope with the relief as best he could.

Slinging an arm around Ahsoka's shoulders, Anakin stepped forward to face his future.

 

 


End file.
